lOLANTHE'S 
WEDDING 

BY 
HERMANN  SUDERMANN 


BONI    AND     LIVE  RIGHT 
NEW     YORK 


Southern  Branch 
of  the 

University  of  California 

Los  Angeles         v    \ 


FormLl 


This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below 


' 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CAUF0RNI* 
LIBRARY, 

AMCna,E&  CALIF, 


lOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 


lOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 
BY  HERMANN  SUDERMANN 
AUTHOR  OF  "THE  SONG  OF  SONGS" 

TRANSLATED    BY    ADELE    S.    SELTZER 


NEW    YORK 

BONI  AND  LIVERIGHT 

1918 

80639 


COPYRIGHT,  1918. 
BY  BONI  &  LIVERIGHT,  INC. 


"FT 

cc  4o 


CONTENTS 

V 

IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 9 

THE  WOMAN  WHO  WAS  His  FRIEND      .     .  109 

Ui  THE  NEW  YEAR'S  EVE  CONFESSION       .     .  127 

THE  GOOSEHERD    .  141 


lOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 


lOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 


CHAPTER  I 

I  TELL  you,  gentlemen,  it's  a  rotten  piece 
of  business  to  be  standing  beside  an  old 
friend's  open  grave — simply  disgusting. 
You  stand  with  your  feet  planted  in 
the  upturned  earth,  and  twirl  your  moustache 
and  look  stupid,  while  you  feel  like  crying  the 
soul  out  of  your  body. 

He  was  dead — there  was  no  use  wishing  he 
weren't. 

In  him  was  lost  the  greatest  genius  for  con- 
cocting and  mixing  punches,  cocktails,  grogs, 
cobblers — every  sort  of  drink.  I  tell  you,  gen- 
tlemen, when  you  went  walking  in  the  country 
with  him  and  he  began  to  draw  the  air  in 
through  his  nose  in  his  peculiar  fashion,  you 
might  be  sure  he  had  just  conceived  a  new  idea 
for  a  punch.  From  the  mere  smell  of  a  weed 


10  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

he  knew  the  sorts  of  wine  that  had  to  be  poured 
over  it  to  bring  into  being  a  something  extra 
fine,  a  something  that  had  never  before 
existed. 

All  in  all  he  was  a  good  fellow,  and  in  the 
many  years  we  sat  opposite  each  other,  evening 
after  evening,  when  he  came  to  me  at  Ilgen- 
stein,  or  I  rode  over  to  him  at  Dobeln,  the  time 
never  dragged. 

If  only  it  hadn't  been  for  his  eternal  mar- 
riage schemes.  That  was  his  weak  side.  I 
mean  as  far  as  I  was  concerned.  As  for  him- 
self—"Good  Lord,"  he'd  say,  "I'm  just  wait- 
ing for  that  vile  water  to  creep  up  to  my  heart, 
then  I'll  slide  off  into  the  next  world." 

And  now  it  had  come  to  that.  He  had  slid 
off.  He  lay  there  in  his  black  coffin,  and  I  felt 
like  tapping  on  the  lid  and  saying: 

"Ptitz,  don't  play  this  dirty  trick  on  me. 
Come  out.  Why,  what's  going  to  become  of 
our  piquet  to-day?" 

Nothing  to  laugh  at,  gentlemen.  Habit  is 
the  most  violent  of  all  passions,  and  the  num- 
ber of  persons  that  are  ruined  every  year  by 


IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING  11 

having  their  habits  interfered  with  are  never 
sung  in  song  or  epic,  to  quote  my  old  friend 
Uhland. 

Such  weather!  I  wouldn't  send  a  dog  out 
in  such  weather.  It  rained  and  hailed  and 
blew  all  at  the  same  time.  Some  of  the  gentle- 
men wore  mackintoshes,  and  the  water  ran 
down  the  folds  in  rivulets.  And  it  ran  down 
their  cheeks  and  into  their  beards — perhaps  a 
few  tears,  too — because  he  left  no  enemies  be- 
hind. Not  he. 

There  was  only  one  chief  mourner— what 
the  world  calls  chief  mourner — his  son,  a 
dragoon  of  the  Guards  in  Berlin.  Lothar  was 
his  name.  He  had  come  from  Berlin  on  the 
day  of  his  father's  death,  and  he  behaved  like 
a  good  son,  kissed  his  father's  hands,  cried  a 
good  deal,  thanked  me  gratefully,  and  did  a 
dreadful  lot  of  ordering  around — a  lieutenant, 
you  know — when  all  of  a  sudden — well,  I  was 
there — and  we  had  arranged  everything. 

As  I  looked  out  of  the  corner  of  my  eyes  at 
the  handsome  fellow  standing  there  manfully 
choking  down  his  tears,  I  thought  of  what  my 


12  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

old  friend  had  said  to  me  the  day  before  he 
died. 

"Hanckel,"  he  had  said,  "take  pity  on  me 
in  my  grave.  Don't  forsake  my  boy." 

As  I  said,  that  is  what  occurred  to  me,  and 
when  the  pastor  beckoned  to  me  to  come  throw 
the  three  handfuls  of  earth  in  the  grave,  I 
silently  sent  a  vow  along  with  them,  "I  will 
not  forsake  him,  old  fellow,  Amen." 

Everything  comes  to  an  end.  The  grave- 
diggers  had  made  a  sort  of  mound  of  the  mud, 
and  laid  the  wreaths  on  top,  since  there  were 
no  women  at  the  funeral.  The  neighbours  took 
leave,  and  the  only  ones  that  remained  were 
the  pastor,  Lothar  and  myself. 

The  boy  stood  like  a  block  of  stone,  staring 
at  the  mound  as  if  to  dig  it  up  again  with  his 
eyes,  and  the  wind  blew  the  collar  of  his  riding 
coat  about  his  ears. 

The  pastor  tapped  him  gently  on  his  shoul- 
der and  said: 

"Baron,  will  you  allow  an  old  man  one  word 
more " 

But  I  beckoned  to  him  to  step  aside. 


IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING  13 

"Just  go  home,  little  minister,"  I  said,  "and 
get  your  wife  to  give  you  a  glass  of  good  hot 
punch.  I  fancy  it's  a  bit  draughty  in  that  silk 
vestment  of  yours." 

"Hee,  hee!"  he  said,  and  grinned  slily.  "It 
looks  as  if  it  were,  but  I  wear  my  overcoat 
underneath." 

"Never  mind,"  I  said.  "Go  home.  I'll  look 
out  for  the  boy.  I  know  better  than  you  where 
the  shoes  pinches  tdm" 

So  then  he  left  us  alone. 

"Well,  my  boy,"  I  said,  "you  can't  bring  him 
back  to  life  again.  Come  home,  and  if  you 
want,  I'll  sleep  at  your  house  to-night." 

"Never  mind,  uncle,"  he  said.  That's  what 
he  called  me  because  they  had  once  nicknamed 
me  uncle  in  a  joke.  His  face  was  hard  and 
sullen,  as  if  to  say,  "Why  do  you  bother  me  in 
my  grief?" 

"But  maybe  we  can  talk  over  business?"  I 
asked. 

He  had  nothing  to  say  to  that. 

You  know  what  an  empty  house  is  like  after 
a  funeral,  gentlemen.  When  you  come  back 


14  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

from  the  cemetery,  the  smell  of  the  coffin  still 
clings,  and  the  smell  of  fading  flowers. 

Ghastly! 

My  sister,  to  be  sure,  who  kept  house  for 
me  then — the  dear  good  soul  has  been  dead, 
too,  these  many  years — had  had  things  put  into 
some  sort  of  order,  the  bier  removed,  and  so 
on.  But  not  much  could  be  done  in  such  a 
hurry. 

I  gave  orders  for  her  to  be  driven  home, 
fetched  a  bottle  of  Piitz's  best  port,  and  sat 
down  opposite  Lothar,  who  had  taken  a  place 
on  the  sofa  and  was  poking  at  the  sole  of  his 
shoe  with  the  point  of  his  sword. 

As  I  said,  he  was  a  superb  fellow,  tall,  stal- 
wart, just  what  a  dragoon  should  be — thick 
moustache,  heavy  eyebrows,  and  eyes  like  two 
wheels  of  fire.  A  fine  head,  but  his  forehead 
a  bit  wild  and  low,  because  his  hair  grew  down 
on  it.  But  that  sort  of  thing  suits  young  peo- 
ple. He  had  the  dash  characteristic  of  the 
Guards,  to  which  we  all  once  so  ardently  as- 
pired. Neither  the  Tilsit  nor  the  Allenstein 


IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING  15 

Dragoons  could  come  up  to  it.  The  devil 
knows  what  the  secret  of  it  is. 

We  clinked  glasses — to  my  old  friend's 
memory,  of  course — and  I  asked  him: 

"Well,  what  next?" 

"Do  I  know?"  he  muttered  between  his 
teeth,  and  glared  at  me  desperately  with  his 
burning  eyes. 

So  that  was  the  state  of  affairs. 

My  old  friend's  circumstances  had  never 
been  brilliant.  Added  to  that  his  love  for 
everything  in  the  shape  of  drink.  Well — and 
you  know  where  there's  a  swamp,  the  frogs  will 
jump  in — especially  the  boy,  who  had  been 
going  it  for  years,  as  if  the  stones  at  Dobeln 
were  nuggets  of  gold. 

"The  debts  are  mounting?"  I  asked. 

"Sky  high,  uncle,"  he  said. 

"Pretty  bad  juncture  for  you,"  I  said. 
"Mortgages,  first,  second,  third — way  over  the 
value  of  the  property,  and  a  lot  of  rebuilding 
required,  and  there's  nothing  to  be  earned  from 
farming  on  the  estate.  The  very  chickens 
know  that.'1 


16  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

"Then  good-bye  to  the  army?"  he  asked, 
and  looked  me  full  in  the  face,  as  if  expecting 
to  hear  sentence  pronounced  by  the  judge  of 
a  court  martial. 

"Unless  you  have  a  friend  to  pull  you  out 
of  the  hole." 

He  shook  his  head,  fuming. 

"Then,  of  course." 

"And  suppose  I  should  have  Dobeln  cut  up 
into  lots,  what  do  you  think  I'd  realise?" 

"Shame  on  you,  boy,"  I  said.  "What!  Sell 
the  shirt  from  off  your  back,  chop  your  bed 
into  kindlings?" 

"Uncle,"  he  replied,  "you  are  talking 
through  your  hat.  I  am  dead  broke." 

"How  much  is  it?"  I  asked. 

He  mentioned  a  sum.  I'll  not  tell  what  it 
was  because  I  paid  it. 

I  laid  down  my  terms.  Firstly,  immediate 
withdrawal  from  the  army.  Secondly,  his  per- 
sonal management  of  the  estate.  Thirdly,  the 
settlement  of  the  lawsuit. 

This  lawsuit  was  against  Krakow  of  Krako- 


IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING  17 

witz,  and  had  been  going  on  for  years.  It 
had  been  my  old  friend's  favourite  sport.  Like 
all  such  things,  it  turned,  of  course,  upon  a 
question  of  inheritance,  and  had  swallowed  up 
three  times  as  much  as  the  whole  business  was 
worth. 

Krakow  was  a  boor,  so  the  dispute  took  on 
a  personal  colour,  and  led  to  intense  hate,  at 
least  on  Krakow's  side,  because  Piitz  was 
phlegmatic  and  always  took  a  slightly  humor- 
ous view  of  the  affair.  But  Krakow  had  openly 
declared  and  sworn  that  if  any  member  or  serv- 
ant of  the  Piitz  family  set  foot  on  his  place,  he 
would  sick  his  dogs  on  him. 

Well,  those  were  my  terms.  And  the  boy 
agreed  to  them.  Whether  willingly  or  unwill- 
ingly, I  did  not  enquire. 

I  made  up  my  mind  to  take  the  first  steps 
myself  toward  an  understanding  with  Krakow, 
although  I  had  every  reason  to  believe  his 
threat  applied  to  me,  too.  I  had  had  several 
tilts  with  him  in  the  county  council. 

But  I — look  at  me — I  don't  mean  to  boast 


18  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

— I  can  fell  a  bull  with  this  fist  of  mine.  So 
a  few  curs  don't  need  to  make  me  take  to  my 
heels. 

Well,  then. 


CHAPTER  II 

SO  I  let  three  days  pass,  gentlemen,  to 
sleep    on   the   matter — then  my   two 
coach-horses  into  the  harness — my  yel- 
low trap — and  heigho  for  Krakowitz. 
Beautiful  bit  of  property,  no  denying  that. 
Somewhat  run  down,  but  full  of  possibilities. 
Lots  of  black  fallow — might  do  for  winter  kale 
or  something  of  the  sort.     The  wheat  so-so. 
The  cattle  splendid. 

The  courtyard!  Well,  you  know,  a  court- 
yard is  like  the  human  heart.  Unce  you  nave 
learned  to  see  into  it,  you  cannot  be  bam- 
boozled so  easily.  There  are  neglected  hearts, 
but  you  can  see  gold  nuggets  peeping  out 
through  the  dirt.  Then  there  are  hearts  all 
done  up  and  polished  and  smartened,  hearts 
fed  up,  you  might  say,  on  arsenic.  They  glitter 
and  glisten,  and  all  you  can  say  when  you  look 
at  them  is  "By  Jingo!"  Yet  they  are  rotten 
and  mouldy.  There  are  hearts  in  the  ascending 

19 


20  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

and  descending  scale,  hearts  of  which  the  better 
is  more  hopeless  than  the  much,  much  worse, 
because  the  worse  improves  while  the  other 
gradually  declines.  Well,  and  so  on. 

The  Krakowitz  yard  was  a  little  of  all  this. 
Bright,  clean  barns,  miserable  wagons,  fine 
drains  for  the  stables,  but  the  stalls  badly 
placed.  An  air  of  whimsicality  about  the  whole 
place,  with  a  touch  of  stinginess  or  lack  of 
means.  From  appearances  it  is  difficult  to  dis- 
tinguish between  the  two.  The  manor-house — 
two  stories,  red  brick  faced  with  yellow  stones 
and  overgrown  with  ivy.  In  a  word,  not  bad, 
something  unstudied  about  it — well,  you  know 
what  I  mean. 

"Is  the  Baron  at  home?" 

"Yes.    What  name  shall  I  give?" 

"Hanckel,  Baron  Hanckel-Ilgenstein." 

"Step  in,  sir." 

So  I  walked  in — everything  old — old  furni- 
ture, old  pictures — worm-eaten,  but  cosy. 

I  heard  some  one  begin  to  curse  and  swear 
in  the  adjoining  room. 

"The  dirty  blackguard — the  impudence  of 


IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING  21 

him — always  was  a  friend  of  that  Piitz,  the 
cur!" 

"Pleasant  reception,"  I  thought. 

Women's  voices  joined  in. 

"Papa,  papa!" 

"Good  Lord!    All  right!    All  right!" 

Then  he  came  in — gentlemen,  if  I  hadn't  just 
heard  it  with  my  own  ears! — holding  out  his 
hands,  his  old  sinner's  face  beaming,  his  dachs 
eyes  blinking  slily,  but  with  a  beam  of  pleasure 
in  them. 

"My  dear  sir,  delighted." 

"See  here,  Krakow,"  I  said,  "look  out.  I 
heard  every  word  just  now." 

"What  did  you  hear,  what  did  you  hear?" 

"The  epithets  you  bestowed  on  me — dirty 
blackguard  and  heaven  knows  what  else." 

"Oh  that,"  he  said,  without  a  twitch  of  his 
lids.  "I  tell  my  wife  every  day  that  the  doors 
are  no  good.  But,  my  dear  sir,  you  mustn't 
mind  what  I  said.  I  always  have  been  angry 
that  you  stood  by  Piitz.  And  I  tell  you,  sir, 
my  womenfolk  mix  just  as  good  punches  as  he. 
If  you  had  come  to  us — lolanthe! — lolanthe's 


22  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

my  daughter.  lolanthe ! !  The  comfort  of  my 
soul!  Doesn't  hear,  doesn't  hear.  Didn't  I 
just  say  the  doors  are  no  good?  But  both 
those  women  are  at  the  keyhole  now !  Will  you 
get  away  from  there,  you  hussies?  Do  you 
hear  their  skirts  rustling?  They're  running 
away.  Ha-ha!  Those  women!" 

Gentlemen,  who  could  take  offence?  I 
couldn't.  Perhaps  I'm  too  thick-skinned?  But 
I  couldn't. 

What  did  he  look  like? 

The  creature  didn't  reach  much  above  my 
waist-line.  Round,  fat,  bow-legged.  But  that 
absurd  body  of  his  was  topped  by  a  regular 
apostle's  head,  either  St.  Peter's  or  perhaps  St. 
Andrew's,  or  somebody's  of  the  sort.  A  fine, 
round,  broad  beard,  with  a  band  of  white  run- 
ning down  from  each  corner  of  his  mouth,  yel- 
low parchment  skin,  thick  crows'  feet  at  the 
corners  of  his  eyes,  the  top  of  his  head  bald> 
but  two  huge  grey  bushes  over  his  ears. 

The  fellow  danced  about  me  like  wild. 

Don't  for  a  moment  suppose,  gentlemen,  that 
I  was  taken  in  by  his  goings-on.  I  had  known 


IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING  23 

him  long  enough.  I  saw  through  and  through 
him.  But — call  me  a  simpleton  if  you  will — 
I  couldn't  help  it — I  liked  him.  And  I  liked 
his  surroundings. 

There  was  a  little  corner  at  the  window  with 
carved  oak  cabinets  all  around — the  window 
overgrown  with  ivy — very  cosy.  The  sun 
shone  in  bright  and  clear  as  in  an  arbour,  and 
on  the  table  in  an  ivory  bowl  was  a  ball  of 
worsted,  and  a  copy  of  Daheim,  and  a  piece 
of  nibbled  cake. 

As  I  said,  altogether  comfortable  and  cosy. 

We  sat  down  in  the  corner,  and  a  maid 
brought  cigars. 

The  cigars  were  no  good,  but  the  smoke 
curled  so  merrily  in  the  sunshine  that  I  did  not 
pay  much  attention  to  their  burning  away  like 
matches. 

I  wanted  to  begin  to  talk  about  my  business, 
but  Krakow  laid  his  hand  on  my  shoulder  and 
said : 

"After  the  coffee!" 

"If  you  please,  Krakow,"  I  said. 

"After  the  coffee!" 


24  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

I  courteously  enquired  about  his  farming 
and  pretended  great  interest  in  his  innovations, 
about  which  he  boasted  extravagantly,  though 
they  were  as  old  as  the  hills  to  me. 

Then  the  Baroness  came  in. 

A  fine  old  piece.  A  slender  dame.  Long 
narrow  blue  eyes,  silver  hair  under  a  black  lace 
cap,  a  melancholy  smile,  fine  yellow  hands.  A 
bit  too  dainty  for  a  country  gentlewoman,  and 
especially  for  such  a  boor  of  a  husband. 

She  welcomed  me  with  great  propriety — 
while  the  old  man  kept  screaming  as  if  pos- 
sessed. 

"lolanthe — girl — where  are  you  hiding?  A 
bachelor's  here — a  suitor — a " 

"Krakow!"  I  said,  completely  taken  aback. 
"Don't  joke  that  way  about  an  old  blade  like 
me." 

And  the  Baroness  saved  me  by  saying  very 
neatly: 

"Don't  worry,  Baron.  We  mothers  gave 
you  up  as  hopeless  years  ago." 

"But  the  girl  can  come  in  at  any  rate," 
screamed  the  old  fellow. 


IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING  25 

And  finally  she  came. 

Gentlemen,  take  off  your  hats !  I  stood  there 
as  if  somebody  had  knocked  me  on  the  head. 
A  thoroughbred,  gentlemen,  a  thoroughbred! 
A  figure  like  a  young  queen's,  her  hair  loose, 
in  a  thousand  wavelets  and  ringlets,  golden 
brown,  like  the  mane  of  a  Barbary  steed.  Her 
throat  full,  white  and  voluptuous.  Her  bosom 
not  too  high,  and  broad  and  curving  at  the 
sides.  In  a  horse,  we  call  it  a  lion's  chest.  And 
when  she  breathed,  her  whole  body  seemed  to 
breathe  along  with  her  lungs,  so  strongly  did 
the  air  pulsate  through  that  glorious  young 
body. 

Gentlemen,  you  don't  have  to  go  in  for 
breeding  animals  as  a  passionate  pursuit  to 
know  how  much  toil  and  effort  it  costs  to  pro- 
duce a  perfect  specimen,  no  matter  of  what 
species.  And  I'm  not  a  woman  connoisseur, 
and  one  doesn't  have  to  be,  to  fold  one's  hands 
at  the  sight  of  so  perfect  a  creature  and  pray, 
"O  Lord,  I  thank  Thee  for  allowing  such  a 
thing  to  walk  the  earth.  For  as  long  as  such 


26  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

bodies  are  created  we  need  have  no  fear  for  our 
souls." 

The  one  thing  I  did  not  quite  like  at  first 
was  her  eyes.  Too  pale  a  blue,  too  languishing 
for  such  an  abundance  of  life.  They  seemed  to 
be  soaring  towards  heaven,  and  yet,  when  they 
narrowed,  a  searching,  lowering  look  came  into 
them,  the  sort  of  look  surly  dogs  get  from  be- 
ing beaten  too  often. 

Old  Krakow  caught  her  by  both  shoulders 
and  began  to  brag  outrageously. 

"This  is  my  work — this  is  what  I  brought 
into  being — I'm  the  father  of  this,"  and  so  on. 

She  tried  to  shake  him  off  and  turned  scar- 
let. 

Aha,  ashamed  of  him. 

Then  the  ladies  got  the  table  ready  for  cof- 
fee. Fresh  brown  waffles,  preserves  after  the 
Russian  fashion,  gleaming  damask,  knives  and 
spoons  with  buckhorn  handles,  the  fine  blue 
smoke  of  charcoal  puffing  up  from  the  chimney 
of  the  brass  coffee  machine,  making  everything 
still  cosier. 

We  sat  there   drinking  our  coffee.     Old 


IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING  27 

Krakow  blustered,  the  Baroness  smiled  a  fine 
melancholy  smile,  and^Iolanthe  made  eyes  at 
me. 

Yes,  gentlemen,  made  eyes  at  me.  You  may 
be  at  the  time  of  life  when  that  sort  of  thing 
happens  to  you  none  too  rarely.  But  just  you 
get  to  be  well  on  in  your  forties,  conscious  to 
the  very  depths  of  your  soul  of  your  fatness 
and  baldness,  and  you'll  see  how  grateful  you'll 
be  even  to  a  housemaid  or  a  barmaid  for  taking 
the  trouble  to  ogle  you.  And  a  thousand  times 
more  so  if  she  happens  to  be  one  of  the  elite 
like  this  one,  a  creature  allowed  to  walk  this 
earth  by  God's  grace. 

At  first  I  thought  I  hadn't  seen  straight, 
then  I  stuck  my  red  hands  in  my  pockets,  then 
I  got  a  fit  of  coughing,  then  I  swore  at  myself 
— "You  blooming  idiot!  you  donkey!" — then  I 
wanted  to  bolt,  and  finally  I  took  to  staring 
into  my  empty  coffee  cup.  Like  an  old  maid. 

But  when  I  looked  up — I  had  to  look  up  now 
and  then — I  always  met  those  great,  light-blue 
languishing  eyes.  They  seemed  to  say: 


28  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

"Don't  you  know  I  am  an  enchanted  princess 
whom  you  are  to  set  free?" 

"Do  you  know  why  I  gave  her  that  crazy 
name?"  the  old  man  asked,  grinning  at  her 
slily. 

She  tossed  her  head  scornfully  and  stood  up. 
She  seemed  to  know  his  jokes. 

"This  is  how  it  was.  She  was  a  week  old. 
She  was  lying  in  her  cradle  kicking  her  legs — 
legs  like  little  sausages.  And  her  little  but- 
tocks, you  know " 

Ye  gods !  I  scarcely  risked  looking  up,  I  was 
so  embarrassed.  The  Baroness  behaved  as  if 
she  heard  nothing,  and  lolanthe  left  the  room. 

But  the  old  man  shook  with  laughter. 

"Ha-ha — such  a  rosy  mite — such  softness, 
and  a  shape  like  a  rose  leaf.  Well,  when  I 
looked  at  her,  I  said,  in  my  young  father's  joy, 
'That  girl's  going  to  be  beautiful  and  bad  and 
will  kick  her  legs  the  whole  of  her  life.  She 
must  have  a  very  poetic  name.  Then  she'll  rise 
in  value  with  the  suitors.'  So  I  looked  up 
names  in  the  dictionary — Thekla,  Hero,  Elsa, 
Angelica.  No,  they  were  all  too  soft,  like 


IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING  29 

squashed  plums.  With  a  name  like  that  she'll 
languish  away  for  some  briefless  lawyer.  Then 
Rosaura,  Carmen,  Beatrice,  Wanda — nixy — 
too  passionate — would  elope  with  the  manager 
of  the  estate.  Because  a  person's  name  is  his 
fate.  Finally  I  found  lolanthe.  lolanthe 
melts  so  sweetly  on  your  tongue — just  the 
name  for  lovers — and  yet  it  doesn't  lead  on  to 
silly  freaks.  It  is  both  tempting  and  dignified. 
It  lures  a  man  on,  but  inspires  him  with  seri- 
ous intentions,  too.  That's  the  way  I  calcu- 
lated, and  my  calculations  have  turned  out  to 
be  quite  right  so  far,  if  in  the  end  she  doesn't 
remain  on  my  hands  on  account  of  her  affec- 
tation and  squeamishness." 

At  this  point  lolanthe  came  into  the  room 
again.  Her  eyes  were  half  closed  and  she  was 
smiling  like  a  child  in  disgrace.  I  was  sorry 
for  the  poor  pretty  creature,  and  to  turn  the 
conversation  quickly,  I  began  to  speak  about 
the  business  I  had  come  on. 

The  ladies  cleared  the  table  without  speak- 
ing, and  the  old  man  filled  the  half -charred 


30  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

bowl  of  his  pipe.  He  seemed  inclined  to  listen 
patiently. 

But  scarcely  did  the  name  Piitz  cross  my 
lips  when  he  jumped  up  and  dashed  his  pipe 
against  the  stove  so  that  the  burning  tobacco 
leaves  flew  about  in  all  directions.  The  mere 
sight  of  his  face  was  enough  to  frighten  you. 
It  turned  red  and  blue  and  swelled  up  as  if  he 
had  been  seized  with  a  stroke  of  apoplexy. 

"Sir-r-r!"  he  shouted.  "Is  that  the  reason 
you  visited  me — to  poison  my  home?  Don't 
you  know  that  that  d—  -  name  is  not  to  be 
breathed  in  this  house?  Don't  you  know  I 
curse  the  fellow  in  his  grave,  and  curse  his 
brood,  and  curse  all " 

At  this  point  he  choked  and  was  seized  with 
a  fit  of  coughing  and  had  to  sink  down  into  his 
upholstered  chair.  The  Baroness  gave  him 
sweetened  water  to  drink. 

I  took  up  my  hat  without  saying  anything. 
Then  I  happened  to  notice  lolanthe  standing 
there  white  as  chalk,  with  her  hands  folded, 
and  looking  at  me  as  if  in  her  shame  and  misery 


IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING  31 

she  wished  to  beg  my  pardon,  or  expected 
something  like  help  from  me. 

I  wanted  to  say  good-bye  at  least.  So  I 
waited  quietly  until  I  felt  I  might  assume  that 
the  old  man,  who  was  lying  there  groaning  and 
panting,  was  in  a  condition  to  understand  me. 
Then  I  said: 

"Baron  von  Krakow,  you  must  realise,  of 
course,  that  after  such  an  attack  upon  my 
friend  and  his  son,  whom  I  love  as  if  he  were 
my  own,  our  relations " 

He  pounded  with  his  hands  and  feet  as  a 
sign  to  me  not  to  go  on  speaking,  and  after 
trying  several  times  to  catch  his  breath,  he 
finally  succeeded  in  saying: 

"That  asthma — the  devil  take  it — like  a 
halter  around  your  neck — snap — your  throat 
goes  shut.  But  what's  that  you're  cackling 
about  our  relations  ?  Our  relations,  that  is,  your 
and  my  relations,  there  never  has  been  any- 
thing wrong  with  them,  my  dear  sir.  They  are 
the  best  relations  in  the  world.  If  I  insulted 
that  litigious  fellow,  the — the — noble  man,  I 
take  it  all  back  and  call  myself  a  vile  cur.  Only 


32  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

nobody  must  speak  to  me  about  him.  I  don't 
want  to  be  reminded  that  he  has  a  son  and 
heir.  To  me  he's  dead,  you  see — he's  dead, 
dead,  dead." 

He  cut  the  air  three  times  with  his  fist,  and 
looked  at  me  triumphantly,  as  if  he  had  dealt 
my  friend  Putz  his  death-blow. 

"Nevertheless,  Baron "  I  started  to  say. 

"No  neverthelessing  here.  You  are  my 
friend!  You  are  the  friend  of  my  family — 
look  at  my  womenfolk — completely  smitten. 
Don't  be  ashamed,  lolanthe!  Just  make  eyes 
at  him,  child.  Do  you  think  I  don't  see  any- 
thing, goosie?" 

She  did  not  blush  nor  did  she  seem  to  be 
abashed,  but  raised  her  folded  hands  slightly. 
It  was  such  a  touching,  helpless  gesture  that  it 
completely  disarmed  me.  So  I  sat  down  again 
for  a  few  moments  and  spoke  about  indifferent 
matters.  Then  I  took  leave  as  soon  as  I  could 
without  provoking  him  again. 

"Go  to  the  door  with  him,  lolanthe,"  said 
the  old  man,  "and  be  charming  to  him.  He's 
the  richest  man  in  the  district." 


IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING  33 

•  • 

At  that  we  all  laughed.  But  walking  beside 
me  in  the  twilight  of  the  hall,  lolanthe  said  very 
softly,  with  a  sort  of  timid  grief: 

"I  know  you  don't  want  to  come  again." 

"No,  I  don't,"  I  said  frankly,  and  was  about 
to  give  my  reasons,  when  she  suddenly  snatched 
up  my  hand,  pressed  it  between  her  slim  white 
palms,  and  said,  half  crying: 

"Oh,  come  again!  Please,  please  come 
again." 

That's  the  way  you're  taken  in.  Old  nin- 
compoop that  I  was,  I  went  daft  on  the  instant. 

In  my  excitement  I  chewed  up  the  whole  of 
my  cigar  on  the  ride  home,  forgetting  to 
light  it. 

I  made  right  for  a  mirror — lit  all  the  lights, 
locked  the  door — back  to  the  mirror.  Ex- 
amined myself  front  and  back,  and,  with  the 
help  of  my  shaving  mirror,  my  noble  profile, 
too. 

Result — crushing.  A  heavy  bald  pate,  bull's 
neck,  puffs  under  my  eyes,  double  chin,  my 
skin  a  fiery  russet,  like  a  glowing  copper  kettle. 

And  what  was  worse  than  all  that — when  I 


34  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

looked  at  myself  in  all  my  six  feet  of  bulk,  a 
chandelier  went  up.  I  knew  why  everybody 
immediately  called  me  a  "good  fellow."  Even 
in  the  regiment  they  used  to  call  me  a  good 
fellow. 

Once  you  are  branded  with  a  Cain's  mark 
like  that,  the  rest  of  your  life  turns  into  noth- 
ing but  a  series  of  events  to  prove  the  truth  of 
it.  People  come  to  you  with  hard-luck  stories, 
you're  a  butt  for  their  jokes,  they  blarney  you 
and  borrow  from  you.  If  once  you  make  a 
timid  attempt  to  defend  yourself,  then  they 
say,  "Why  I  thought  you  were  a  good  fellow!" 
So  you  can't  get  out  of  it.  You  are  and  you 
remain  a  good  fellow.  You've  been  stamped 
and  sealed. 

And  then  you,  a  good  fellow,  want  to  take 
up  with  women?  With  women,  who  languish 
for  the  Mephistophelean,  who,  to  love  properly, 
want  to  be  deserted,  duped,  and  generally  mal- 
treated. 

"Hanckel,  don't  be  an  ass,"  I  said  to  my- 
self. "Go  away  from  the  mirror,  put  out  the 


IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING  35 

lights,  knock  those  silly  dreams  out  of  your 
head,  and  get  into  bed." 

Gentlemen,  I  had  a  bed — and  still  have  it — 
a  perfectly  ordinary  bed,  as  narrow  as  a  coffin, 
of  pine,  stained  red — no  springs,  no  mattress 
— a  deerskin  instead.  Twice  a  year  it  is  filled 
with  fresh  straw.  That  was  the  extent  of  my 
luxury.  Gentlemen,  there  are  many  stories 
about  the  poor  camp  cots  of  persons  in  high 
life.  You  see  them  on  exhibition  in  castles  and 
historical  museums,  and  when  the  visitors  are 
herded  past  them,  they  invariably  clasp  their 
hands  and  dutifully  exclaim : 

"What  power  of  renunciation!  What  Spar- 
tan simplicity!" 

Buncombe,  gentlemen!  You  can't  sleep 
more  comfortably  anywhere  than  on  a  bed  like 
that — provided,  of  course,  that  you  have  a  good 
day's  work  behind  you,  a  good  conscience 
within  you,  and  no  woman  beside  you — which 
all  amount  to  about  the  same  thing. 

You  stretch  yourself  deliciously  until  your 
feet  just  touch  the  bottom  of  the  bed,  you  bite 
the  comfortable  a  few  times,  burrow  in  the  pil- 


86  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

lows,  reach  out  for  a  good  book  lying  on  the 
table  next  to  the  bed,  and  groan  from  sheer 
bliss. 

That's  what  I  did  that  night  after  the 
tempter  had  left  me,  and  as  I  slowly  dozed  off 
I  thought: 

"Well,  well,  no  woman  will  make  you 
traitor  to  your  dear,  hard,  narrow  bachelor's 
sack  of  straw,  even  if  her  name  is  lolanthe,  and 
even  if  she  is  the  finest  thoroughbred  that  ever 
galloped  about  on  God's  lovely  pastures. 

"Perhaps  all  the  less  so. 

"Because — who  knows?" 


1 


CHAPTER  III 

next  day  I  turned  in  my  re- 
port to  the  boy — leaving  out  my 
asininities,  of  course. 

He  glowered  at  me  with  his  dark 
eyes,  and  said: 

"Let's  say  no  more  about  it.    I  thought  so." 
But  a  week  later  he  returned  to  the  subject 
sort  of  by  the  way. 

"You  ought  to  go  there  again  after  all, 
uncle." 

"Are  you  crazy,  boy?"  I  said,  though  I  felt 
as  good  as  if  a  woman's  soft  warm  hand  were 
tickling  the  nape  of  my  neck. 

"You  needn't  mention  me,"  he  said,  exam- 
ining the  tips  of  his  boots,  "but  if  you  go  there 
several  times,  perhaps  things  will  gradually 
right  themselves." 

Gentlemen,  you  couldn't  have  broken  a  reed 
more  easily  than  my  resolution. 

37 

80039 


38  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

So  I  drove  over  again.  And  again  and 
again. 

I  would  let  old  Krakow  go  on  with  his 
vapourings,  and  I'd  drink  the  coffee  his  wife 
made  for  me,  and  listen  devoutly  while  lolanthe 
sang  her  loveliest  songs,  even  though  music — 
in  general — well,  the  oftener  I  visited  Krako- 
witz  the  uncannier  the  business  became,  but 
something  always  tugged  me  back  again.  I 
couldn't  help  myself. 

The  old  Adam  in  me,  before  going  to  sleep 
forever,  wanted  a  Last  Supper,  even  if  it  con- 
sisted of  nothing  but  the  pleasant  sensation  of 
a  woman's  nearness.  In  the  depths  of  my  soul 
I  had  no  hopes  of  anything  beyond  that. 

To  be  sure,  lolanthe  continued  to  cast  fur- 
tive glances  at  me,  but  what  they  indicated — 
whether  a  reproach,  a  cry  for  help,  or  merely 
the  wish  to  be  admired — I  never  could  make 
out. 

Then — on  my  third  or  fourth  visit — the  fol- 
lowing happened. 

It  was  early  in  the  afternoon — blazing  hot. 


IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING  39 

From  boredom  or  impatience  I  drove  to  Krak- 
owitz. 

"The  Baron  and  Baroness  are  asleep,"  said 
the  lackey,  "but  the  young  lady  is  on  the  ve- 
randah." 

I  began  to  suspect  all  sorts  of  things,  and 
my  heart  started  to  thump.  I  wanted  to  go 
back  home  again,  but  when  I  saw  her  standing 
there,  tall  and  snowy  white  in  her  mull  dress, 
as  if  chiselled  in  marble,  my  old  asininity  came 
upon  me  again,  stronger  than  ever. 

"How  nice  of  you  to  come,  Baron,"  she  said. 
"I've  been  frightfully  bored.  Let's  go  take  a 
walk  in  the  garden.  There's  a  cool  arbour 
where  we  can  have  a  pleasant  chat  without  be- 
ing disturbed." 

When  she  put  her  arm  in  mine,  I  began  to 
tremble.  I  tell  you,  climbing  a  hill  under  fire 
was  easier  than  going  down  those  steps. 

She  said  nothing — I  said  nothing.  The  at- 
mosphere grew  heavier.  The  gravel  crunched 
under  our  tread,  the  bees  buzzed  about  the 
spiraea  bushes.  Nothing  else  to  be  heard  far 
or  near.  She  clung  to  my  arm  quite  confiden- 


40  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

tially,  and  every  now  and  then  made  me  stop 
when  she  pulled  out  a  weed  or  plucked  a  piece 
of  mignonette  to  tickle  her  nose  with  for  an 
instant  and  then  throw  it  away. 

"I  wish  I  loved  flowers,"  she  said.  "There 
are  so  many  people  who  love  flowers,  or  say 
they  love  them.  In  love  affairs  you  can  never 
get  at  the  truth." 

"Why  not?"  I  asked.  "Don't  you  think  it 
ever  happens  that  two  human  beings  like  each 
other  and  say  so — quite  simply — without  de- 
sign or  ulterior  motives?" 

"Like  each  other — like  each  other,"  she  said 
tauntingly.  "Are  you  such  an  icicle  that  you 
translate  'love'  by  'like'?" 

"Unfortunately,  whether  I  am  an  icicle  or 
not  no  longer  matters,"  I  answered. 

"You're  a  noble-hearted  man,"  she  said,  and 
looked  at  me  sidewise,  a  bit  coquettishly. 
"Everything  you  think  comes  out  as  straight 
as  if  shot  from  a  pistol." 

"But  I  know  how  to  keep  quiet,  too,"  I  said. 

"Oh,  I  feel  that,"  she  answered  hastily.  "I 
could  confide  everything  to  you,  everything.'* 


IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING  41 

It  seemed  to  me  that  she  pressed  my  arm  very 
gently. 

"What  does  she  want  of  you?"  I  asked  my- 
self, and  I  felt  my  heart  beating  in  my  throat. 

At  last  we  reached  the  arbour,  an  arbour  of 
Virginia  creeper,  with  those  broad,  pointed 
leaves  which  keep  the  sun  out  entirely.  It's 
always  night  in  arbours  of  Virginia  creeper, 
you  know. 

She  let  go  my  arm,  kneeled  on  the  ground, 
and  crept  through  a  little  hole  on  all  fours. 
The  entrance  was  completely  overgrown,  and 
that  was  the  only  way  to  get  inside. 

And  I,  Baron  von  Hanckel  of  Ilgenstein,  I, 
a  paragon  of  dignity,  I  got  down  on  all  fours, 
and  crawled  through  a  hole  no  larger  than  an 
oven  door. 

Yes,  gentlemen,  that  is  what  the  women  do 
with  us. 

Inside  in  the  cool  twilight  she  stretched  her- 
self out  on  a  bench  in  a  half  reclining  position, 
and  wiped  her  bared  throat  with  her  handker- 
chief. Beautiful!  I  tell  you,  she  looked  per- 
fectly beautiful. 


42  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

When  I  got  up  and  stood  in  front  of  her 
breathless,  panting  like  a  bear — at  forty-eight 
years  of  age,  gentlemen,  you  don't  go  dancing 
on  all  fours  with  impunity — she  burst  out 
laughing — a  short,  sharp,  nervous  laugh. 

"Just  laugh  at  me,"  I  said. 

"If  you  only  knew  how  little  I  felt  like 
laughing,"  she  said,  with  a  bitter  expression 
about  her  mouth. 

Then  there  was  silence.  She  stared  into 
space  with  her  eyebrows  lifted  high.  Her 
bosom  rose  and  fell. 

"What  are  you  thinking  of?"  I  asked. 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"Thinking — what's  the  good  of  thinking? 
I'm  tired.  I  want  to  sleep." 

"Then  go  to  sleep." 

"But  you  must  go  to  sleep,  too,"  she  said. 

"Very  well,  I'll  go  to  sleep,  too." 

And  I  also  half  stretched  myself  out  on  the 
bench  opposite  her. 

"But  you  must  shut  your  eyes,"  she  com- 
manded again.  I  obediently  shut  my  eyes.  I 
saw  suns  and  light-green  wheels  arid  sheaves 


IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING  43 

of  fire  the  whole  time — saw  them  the  whole 
time.  That  comes  from  your  blood  being 
stirred  up.  And  every  now  and  then  I'd  say 
to  myself: 

"Hanckel,  you're  making  a  fool  of  your- 
self." 

It  was  so  quiet  I  could  hear  the  little  bugs 
crawling  about  on  the  leaves. 

"You  must  see  what  she's  doing,"  I  said  to 
myself,  hoping  to  be  able  to  admire  her  in  her 
sleeping  glory  to  my  heart's  content. 

But  when  I  opened  my  eyes  the  least  little 
bit  to  steal  a  look,  I  saw — and,  gentlemen,  a 
shiver  of  fright  went  through  me  to  the  very 
tips  of  my  toes — I  saw  her  eyes  fixed  on  me  in 
a  wide,  wild  stare,  in  a  sort  of  spying  frenzy, 
I  may  say. 

"But,  lolanthe,  dear  child,"  I  said,  "why  are 
you  looking  at  me  that  way?  What  have  I 
done  to  you?" 

She  jumped  to  her  feet  as  if  startled  out  of 
a  dream,  wiped  her  forehead  and  cheeks,  and 
tried  to  laugh — two  or  three  times — short, 
abrupt  little  laughs,  like  before — and  then  she 


44  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

burst  out  crying,  and  cried  as  if  her  heart  would 
break. 

I  jumped  up  and  went  over  to  her.  I  should 
have  liked  to  put  my  hand  on  her  head,  too,  but 
I  lacked  the  courage.  I  asked  her  if  something 
was  troubling  her  and  whether  she  would  not 
confide  in  me,  and  so  on. 

"Oh,  I'm  the  most  miserable  creature  on 
earth,"  she  sobbed. 

"Why?" 

"I  want  to  do  something — something  hor- 
rible— and  I  haven't  got  the  courage  to." 

"Well,  well,  what  is  it?" 

"I  can't  tell  you !    I  can't  tell  you !" 

That  was  all  I  could  get  out  of  her,  though 
I  did  my  best  to  persuade  her  to  confide  more 
in  me.  But  gradually  her  expression  changed 
and  grew  gloomier  and  more  set.  And  finally 
she  said  in  a  suppressed  voice  as  if  to  herself: 

"I  want  to  go  away — I  want  to  run  away." 

"Good  Lord,  with  whom?"  I  asked,  com- 
pletely taken  aback. 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"With  whom?     Nobody.     There's  nobody 


IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING  45 

here  who  takes  up  for  me — not  even  the  shep- 
herd boy.  But  I  must  go  away.  I'm  stifling 
here — I  have  nothing  to  hope  for  here.  I  shall 
perish.  And  as  there's  nobody  to  come  and 
take  me  away,  I'm  going  to  go  off  by  myself." 

"But,  my  dear  young  lady,"  I  said,  "I  un- 
derstand you're  a  trifle  bored  at  Krakowitz. 
It's  a  bit  lonely — and  your  father  kicks  up  a 
row  with  all  the  neighbours.  But  if  you  would 
consent  to  marry.  A  woman  like  you  need 
only  crook  her  little  finger." 

"Oh,  nonsense !  Empty  words.  Who  would 
want  me?  Do  you  know  anybody  who  wants 
me?" 

My  heart  beat  frightfully.  I  didn't  mean  to 
say  it — it  was  madness — but  there,  it  was  out! 
I  told  her  I  wanted  to  prove  to  her  that  I  for 
my  part  was  not  talking  empty  words — or 
something  of  the  sort. 

Because  even  after  that  I  could  not  screw 
up  my  courage — God  knows — to  make  love  to 
her  regularly. 

She  shut  her  eyes  and  heaved  a  deep  sigh. 
Then  she  took  hold  of  my  arm  and  said : 


46  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

"Before  you  leave,  Baron,  I  want  to  confess 
something,  so  that  you  should  not  be  under  a 
wholly  wrong  impression.  My  father  and 
mother  are  not  asleep.  When  they  heard  your 
carriage  coming  up  the  drive,  they  locked  them- 
selves in  their  room — that  is,  mother  did  not 
want  to,  but  father  forced  her  to.  Our  being 
here  together  is  a  preconcerted  plan.  I  was  to 
turn  your  head,  so  that  you  should  ask  me  to 
marry  you.  Ever  since  your  first  visit  here 
both  of  them,  both  father  and  mother,  have 
been  tormenting  me,  father  with  threats, 
mother  with  entreaties,  not  to  let  the  chance 
slip,  because  an  eligible  party  like  you  would 
never  turn  up  again.  Baron,  forgive  me.  I 
didn't  want  to.  Even  if  I  had  loved  you,  oh, 
ever  so  much,  that  would  have  disgusted  me 
with  you.  But  now  that  this  is  off  my  con- 
science, now  I  am  willing.  If  you  want  me, 
take  me.  I  am  yours." 

Gentlemen,  put  yourself  in  my  place.  A 
beautiful  young  woman,  a  perfect  Venus, 
throwing  herself  at  me  out  of  pride  and  despair, 
and  I,  a  good,  corpulent  gentleman  in  the  late 


IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING  47 

forties.  Was  it  not  a  sort  of  sacrilege  to 
snatch  up  and  carry  off  a  bit  of  good  fortune 
like  that? 

"lolanthe,"  I  said,  "lolanthe,  dear,  sweet 
child,  do  you  know  what  you  are  doing?" 

"I  know,"  she  replied,  and  smiled  a  woebe- 
gone smile.  "I  am  lowering  myself  before 
God,  before  myself  and  before  you.  I'm  mak- 
ing myself  your  slave,  your  creature,  and  I  am 
deceiving  you  at  the  same  time." 

"You  cannot  even  bear  me,  can  you?"  I 
asked. 

At  that  she  made  the  same  old  light-blue 
eyes  of  innocence,  and  said  very  softly  and 
sentimentally : 

"You're  the  best,  the  noblest  man  in  the 
world.  I  could  love  you — I  could  idolise  you, 
but " 

"But?" 

"Oh,  it's  all  so  hideous — so  impure.  Just 
say  you  don't  want  me — just  throw  me  over — 
I  don't  deserve  anything  better." 

I  felt  as  if  the  earth  were  going  round  in  a 
circle.  I  had  to  summon  my  last  remnant  of 


48  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

reason  not  to  clasp  the  lovely,  passionate  crea- 
ture in  my  arms  and  hold  her  to  my  breast. 
And  with  that  last  remnant  of  reason  I  said: 

"Far  be  it  from  me,  dear  child,  to  turn  the 
excitement  of  this  moment  to  my  profit.  You 
might  regret  it  to-morrow  when  it  would  be 
too  late.  I  will  wait  a  week.  Think  it  all  over 
in  that  time.  If  by  the  end  of  the  week  you 
have  not  written  to  take  back  your  word,  I  will 
consider  the  matter  settled,  and  I  will  come 
over  to  ask  your  father  and  mother  for  your 
hand.  But  think  everything  over  carefully, 
so  that  you  don't  plunge  yourself  into  unhap- 
piness." 

She  caught?  hold  of  my  hand — this  awful, 
pudgy,  horny,  brown  hand,  gentlemen — and 
before  I  could  prevent  her,  she  kissed  it. 

It  was  not  till  much,  much  later  that  the 
meaning  of  that  kiss  was  to  become  clear  to 
me. 

Scarcely  had  we  crawled  out  of  the  arbour 
when  we  heard  the  old  gentleman  screaming 
from  a  distance : 

"Is     it     possible?    Hanckel — my     friend 


IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING  49 

Hanckel  here?  Why  didn't  you  wake  me  up, 
you  scurvy  blackguards,  you?  My  friend 
Hanckel  here,  and  I  snoring — you  dogs !" 

lolanthe  turned  scarlet.  And  I,  to  relieve 
the  painful  situation,  said: 

"Never  mind,  I  know  him." 

Yes,  gentlemen,  I  knew  the  old  fellow,  but 
I  did  not  know  his  daughter. 


CHAPTER  IV 

SO  that  was  the  pass  we  had  come  to. 
On  the  drive  home  I  kept  repeat- 
ing to  myself: 

"Hanckel,  what  a  lucky  dog  you 
are!  Such  a  treasure  at  your  time  of  life! 
Dance  for  joy,  shout  aloud,  carry  on  like  a 
crazy  man.  The  events  of  the  day  call  for  it." 
But,  gentlemen,  I  did  not  dance  for  joy,  I 
did  not  shout  aloud,  I  did  not  carry  on  like  a 
crazy  man.  I  looked  over  my  bills  and  drank 
a  glass  of  punch.  That  was  the  extent  of  my 
celebration. 

The  next  day  Lothar  Piitz  came  riding  up 
in  his  light-blue  fatigue  uniform. 

"Still  holding  on  to  your  commission,  my 
boy?"  I  asked. 

"My  resignation  has  not  yet  gone  into  ef- 
fect," he  answered,  looking  at  me  grimly,  but 
avoiding  my  eyes,  as  if  I  were  the  cause  of 

50 


IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING  51 

all  his  trouble.  "At  any  rate,  my  leave  has 
expired.  I  have  to  go  to  Berlin." 

I  asked  if  he  could  not  get  an  extension. 
But  I  noticed  he  did  not  want  it — was  suffer- 
ing with  homesickness  for  the  club.  We  all 
know  what  that  is.  Besides,  he  had  to  sell  his 
furniture,  he  explained,  and  arrange  with  the 
creditors. 

"Well,  then,  go,  my  boy,"  I  said,  and  hesi- 
tated an  instant  whether  I  should  confide  my 
new  joy  to  him.  But  I  was  afraid  of  the  silly 
face  I'd  make  while  confessing,  so  I  refrained. 
Another  thing  that  kept  me  was  a  feeling 
stowed  away  deep  down  at  the  bottom  of  my 
heart — I  was  counting  on  a  rejection.  I  feared 
it,  and  I  hoped  for  it,  too. 

The  feeling  was  something  like — but  what's 
the  use  of  delving  into  feelings?  The  facts 
will  tell  the  story. 

Exactly  a  week  later  in  the  morning  the 
postman  brought  me  an  envelope  addressed  in 
her  handwriting. 

At  first  I  was  dreadfully  afraid.  Tears 
sprang  into  my  eyes.  And  I  said  to  myself: 


52  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

"There,  old  man,  now  you've  been  relegated 
to  the  scrap  heap." 

At  the  same  time  a  peaceful  renunciation 
came  over  me,  and  while  opening  the  envelope 
I  almost  wished  I  might  find  in  it  just  a  plain 
mitten. 

But  what  I  read  was : 

"Dear  Friend:— 

I  have  thought  the  matter  over,  as  you 
wished.  I  am  confirmed  in  my  decision.  I 
shall  expect  to  see  you  to-day  when  you  call 
on  my  father. 

lolanthe." 

Happy!  Well,  of  course,  I  was  happy — at 
such  a  moment — it  goes  without  saying.  But, 
then,  how  ashamed  I  was.  Yes,  gentlemen, 
ashamed,  ashamed  to  face  a  soul.  And  when 
I  thought  of  all  the  dubious,  sarcastic  looks 
that  people  would  soon  be  casting  at  me,  I  felt 
I'd  rather  back  out  of  the  business. 

But  the  hour  had  come.    Up  and  be  doing. 

First  I  beautified  myself.  I  cut  my  chin 
twice  shaving.  One  of  the  stable-boys  had  to 
ride  two  miles  to  the  chemist's  to  get  me  some 


IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING  53 

flesh-coloured  court-plaster.  My  waistcoat 
was  drawn  in  so  tight  I  could  scarcely  breathe, 
and  my  poor  old  sister  nearly  went  wild  trying 
to  give  my  necktie  that  careless,  free-and-easy 
look  I  wanted. 

And  all  the  time  I  kept  thinking  and  think- 
ing— it  never  left  me  for  an  instant: 

"Hanckel,  Hanckel,  you're  making  an  ass 
of  yourself." 

But  my  entry  into  Krakowitz  was  grand — 
two  dapper  greys  of  my  own  breeding — silver 
collar  trimmings — a  new  landau  lined  with 
wine-coloured  satin.  No  prince  in  the  world 
could  have  come  a-wooing  more  proudly. 

But  my  heart  was  thumping  at  my  ribs  in 
abject  cowardice. 

The  old  man  received  me  at  the  door.  He 
behaved  as  if  he  hadn't  the  faintest  suspicion 
of  what  was  doing. 

When  I  asked  him  for  a  talk  in  private,  he 
looked  surprised  and  made  a  face,  like  a  man 
scenting  a  "touch"  from  an  unexpected  quar- 
ter. 

"You'll  soon  be  pulling  in  your  sails,"  I 


54  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

thought.  I  naturally  supposed  that  at  the 
first  word  there  would  be  an  excellently  acted 
emotional  scene — kisses,  tears  of  joy,  and  the 
rest  of  the  rigmarole. 

That's  how  vain  it  makes  you,  gentlemen,  to 
possess  a  wide  purse. 

But  the  old  fox  knew  how  to  drive  a  bar- 
gain. He  knew  you  had  to  run  down  the  pros- 
pective purchaser  in  order  to  run  up  the  price 
of  your  goods. 

After  I  proposed  for  his  daughter's  hand, 
he  said,  all  puffed  up  with  suddenly  acquired 
dignity: 

"I  beg  pardon,  Baron,  but  who  will  guar- 
antee that  this  alliance,  which — revolve  the 
matter  as  you  will — has  something  unnatural 
about  it — who  will  guarantee  that  it  will  turn 
out  happy?  Who  will  guarantee  that  two 
years  from  now  my  daughter  won't  come  run- 
ning back  home  some  night,  bareheaded,  in  her 
nightgown,  and  say,  'Father,  I  can't  live  with 
that  old  man.  Let  me  stay  here  with  you'?" 

Gentlemen,  that  was  tough. 

"And  in  view  of  all  these  circumstances," 


IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING  55 

he  continued,  "I  am  not  justified  as  an  hon- 
ourable man  and  father  in  entrusting  my 
daughter  to  you " 

Very  well,  rejected,  made  a  fool  of.  I  rose, 
since  the  affair  seemed  to  me  to  be  ended. 
But  he  hastily  pressed  me  back  into  my  seat. 

"Or,  at  least,  in  entrusting  her  to  you  and 
observing  the  forms  that  I  feel  a  man  like 
me  owes  a  man  like  you,  or  to  express  myself 
more  clearly — by  which  a  father  endeavours 
to  assure  his  daughter's  future — or,  to  express 
myself  still  more  clearly — the  dowry " 

At  that  I  burst  out  laughing. 

The  old  sharper,  the  old  sharper !  It  was  the 
dowry  he  had  been  sneaking  up  to!  That 
was  what  the  whole  comedy  had  been  about. 

When  he  saw  me  laugh,  he  sent  his  dignity 
and  his  pathos  and  his  feeling  of  pride  to  the 
devil  and  laughed  heartily  along  with  me, 

"Well,  if  that's  the  way  you  are,  old  fel- 
low," he  said,  "had  I  known  it  right  away ' 

And  with  that  the  bargain  was  struck. 

Then  the  Baroness  was  called  in,  and,  to 
her  credit  be  it  said,  she  forgot  her  assigned 


56  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

role  and  fell  on  my  neck  before  her  husband 
had  had  a  chance,  for  the  sake  of  appearances, 
to  explain  the  situation. 

But  lolanthe! 

She  appeared  at  the  threshold  pale  as  death, 
her  lips  tightly  compressed,  her  eyes  half  shut. 
Without  saying  a  word  and  standing  there  mo- 
tionless as  a  stone,  she  held  both  hands  out  to 
me,  and  then  allowed  her  parents  to  kiss  her. 

You  see,  that  gave  me  food  for  thought 
again. 


CHAPTER  V 

WHAT  I  had  dreaded,  gentlemen, 
did  not  come  about. 
Evidently,    I    had    underesti- 
mated my  popularity  in  the  dis- 
trict.    My  engagement  met  with  general  fa- 
vour, both  among  the  gentry  and  the  rest  of 
the  people.    Nothing  but  beaming  faces  when 
they  shook  hands  and  congratulated  me. 

To  be  sure,  at  such  a  time  the  whole  world 
is  in  a  conspiracy  to  lure  a  man  on  still  farther 
along  the  road  to  his  fate.  People  are  nice 
and  amiable  to  you  and  then,  just  when  some- 
thing threatens  to  go  wrong,  they  turn  on  you 
snapping  and  snarling. 

However  that  may  be,  I  gradually  got  rid 
of  my  feeling  of  shame,  and  behaved  as  if  I 
had  a  right  to  so  much  youth  and  beauty. 

My  old  sister's  attitude  was  touching,  even 
though  she  was  the  only  one  whom  my  mar- 
riage would  directly  injure.  On  my  wedding 

57 


58  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

day  she  was  to  retire  from  Ilgenstein  to  be 
shelved  at  Gorowen,  a  family  home  of  ours 
for  maiden  ladies  and  dowagers. 

She  shed  streams  of  tears,  tears  of  joy,  and 
declared  her  prayers  had  been  heard,  and  she 
was  in  love  with  lolanthe  before  she  had  seen 
her. 

But  what  would  Piitz  have  said,  Piitz  who 
had  always  wanted  me  to  marry  and  had  never 
got  me  to? 

"I'll  make  up  to  his  son  for  it,"  I  thought. 

I  wrote  Lothar  a  long  letter.  I  half  begged 
his  pardon  for  having  gone  a-wooing  in  his 
enemy's  house  and  expressed  the  hope  that  in 
this  way  the  old  breach  would  be  healed. 

I  waited  a  long  time  for  his  answer.  When 
it  came,  just  a  few  dry  words  of  congratula- 
tion and  a  line  to  say  he  would  delay  his  re- 
turn until  after  the  wedding  day,  since  it  would 
pain  him  to  be  at  home  on  that  joyous  occa- 
sion and  yet  not  be  able  to  be  with  me. 

That,  gentlemen,  piqued  me.  I  really  liked 
the  boy,  you  know. 


IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING  59 

Oh,  yes — and  lolanthe  troubled  me.  Trou- 
bled me  greatly,  gentlemen. 

She  showed  no  real  delight,  you  know. 
When  I  came,  I  found  a  pale,  cold  face.  Her 
eyes  seemed  positively  blurred  by  the  dismal 
look  in  them.  It  was  not  until  I  had  her  to 
myself  in  a  corner  and  got  into  a  lively  talk 
that  she  gradually  brightened  and  even  showed 
a  certain  childlike  tenderness  toward  me. 

But,  gentlemen,  I  was  so  nice.  Awfully 
nice,  I  tell  you!  I  treated  her  as  if  she  were 
the  famous  princess  who  could  not  sleep  with 
a  pea  under  her  mattress.  Every  day  I  dis- 
covered in  myself  a  new  delicacy  of  feeling.  I 
became  quite  proud  of  my  delicate  constitu- 
tion. Only  sometimes  I  yearned  for  a  naughty 
joke  or  a  good  round  curse  word. 

And  that  constantly  having  to  be  on  the 
watch-out  was  a  great  exertion,  you  know. 
I'm  a  warm-hearted  fellow,  I'm  glad  to  say, 
and  I  can  anticipate  another  person's  wants. 
Without  any  fuss  or  to-do.  But  I  was  like  a 
blindfolded  tight-rope  dancer.  One  misstep 


60  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

on  the  right — one  misstep  on  the  left — plop ! — 
down  he  falls. 

And  when  I  came  home  to  my  great  empty 
house,  where  I  could  shout,  curse,  whistle,  and 
do,  heaven  knows  what  else,  to  my  heart's  con- 
tent without  insulting  some  one  or  setting  some 
one  a-shuplder,  a  sense  of  comfort  tickled  me 
up  and  down  my  backbone,  and  I  sometimes 
said  to  myself: 

"Thank  the  Lord,  you're  still  a  free  man." 

But  not  for  long.  Nothing  stood  in  the  way 
of  the  wedding.  It  was  to  take  place  in  six 
weeks. 

My  dear  old  Ilgenstein  fell  into  the  hands 
of  a  tyrannical  horde  of  workmen,  who  turned 
everything  topsy-turvy.  If  I  expressed  a  wish, 
"Baron,"  they'd  say,  "that  is  not  in  good 
taste."  Well,  I  let  them  have  their  way.  At 
that  time  I  still  had  slavish  respect  for  so-called 
"good  taste."  It  was  not  until  much  later  that 
I  realised  that  in  most  cases  back  of  "good 
taste"  there  is  nothing  but  lack  of  real  taste. 

Well,  to  cut  it  short,  the  bunch  of  them  car- 
ried on  so  fearfully  in  the  name  of  that  cursed 


IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING  61 

"good  taste"  that  finally  nothing  was  left  in 
my  dear  old  castle  but  my  hunting-room  and 
study.  Here  I  emphatically  put  my  foot  down 
on  good  taste. 

And  my  narrow  old  cot !  Nobody,  of  course, 
was  allowed  to  touch  that. 

Gentlemen,  that  cot ! 

And  now  listen. 

One  day  my  sister,  who  stood  in  with  the 
vile  crew,  came  to  my  room — with  a  certain 
bitter-sweet,  bashful  smile — the  kind  old  maids 
always  smile  when  the  question  of  how  chil- 
dren come  into  the  world  is  touched  upon. 

"I  have  something  to  say  to  you,  George," 
she  said,  cleared  her  throat,  and  peered  into 
the  corners. 

"Fire  away." 

"Has  it  occurred  to  you,"  she  stammered,  "I 
mean,  of  course — I  mean — you  see — you  won't 
be  able  to  sleep  any  more  in  that  horrible  straw 
bag  of  a  bed  of  yours." 

"Now,  then,  do  let  me  have  my  comfort," 
I  said. 

"You  don't  understand,"  she  lisped,  get- 


62  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

ting  more  confused.  "I  mean  after — when — 
I  mean  after  the  wedding." 

The  devil!  I  had  never  thought  of  that! 
And  I,  old  sinner  though  I  was,  I  looked  just 
as  shamefaced  as  she. 

"I'll  have  to  speak  to  the  cabinet-maker," 
I  said. 

"George,"  she  observed  with  a  very  impor- 
tant air,  "forgive  me,  but  I  understand  more 
about  such  matters  than  you." 

"Eh,  eh,"  I  said,  and  shook  my  finger  at 
her.  It  had  always  been  such  fun  for  me  to 
shock  her  old-maidishness. 

She  blushed  scarlet,  and  said: 

"I  saw  wonderful,  perfectly  wonderful  bed- 
room furniture  at  my  friends,  Frau  von  Hous- 
selle  and  Countess  Finkenstein.  You  must 
have  your  bedroom  furnished  the  same  way." 

"Go  ahead,"  I  said. 

I'll  have  to  tell  you,  gentlemen,  why  I  gave 
in  so  easily.  I  knew  my  father-in-law-to-be, 
the  old  miser,  would  not  want  to  spend  a  sin- 
gle cent  on  a  trousseau.  So  I  had  said  I  had 
everything.  Then  I  had  to  hustle  and  order 


IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING  63 

whatever  was  needed  from  Berlin  and  Konigs- 
berg.  Of  course,  I  had  forgotten  about  the 
bed. 

"What  would  you  rather  have,"  my  sister 
went  on,  "pink  silk  covered  with  plain  net,  or 
blue  with  Valenciennes  lace?  Perhaps  it  would 
be  a  good  idea  to  tell  the  decorator  who  is  doing 
the  dining-room  to  paint  a  few  Cupids  on  the 
ceiling." 

Oh,  oh,  oh,  gentlemen,  fancy!  I  and 
Cupids ! 

"The  bed,"  she  continued  mercilessly,  "can't 
be  made  to  order  any  more." 

"What,"  I  said,  "not  in  six  weeks?" 

"Why,  George!  The  drawings,  the  plans 
alone  require  a  month." 

I  glanced  sadly  at  my  dear  old  bed — it 
hadn't  needed  any  plans.  Just  six  boards  and 
four  posts  knocked  together  in  one  morning. 

"The  best  thing  would  be,"  she  went  on,  "if 
we  wrote  to  Lothar  and  asked  him  to  pick  out 
the  best  piece  he  can  find  in  the  Berlin  shops." 

"Do  whatever  you  want,  but  let  me  alone," 
I  said  angrily.  As  she  was  leaving  the  room 


64  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

looking  hurt,  I  called  after  her:  "Be  sure  to 
impress  upon  the  decorator  to  make  the  Cupids 
look  like  me." 

That,  gentlemen,  will  give  you  an  idea  of  my 
bridal  mood. 

And  the  nearer  the  wedding  day  came,  the 
uncannier  I  felt. 

Not  that  I  was  afraid — or,  rather,  I  was 
frightfully  afraid — but  apart  from  that,  I  felt 
as  if  I  were  to  blame,  as  if  some  wrong  were 
being  done,  as  if — how  shall  I  say? 

If  I  had  only  known  who  was  being  wronged. 
Not  lolanthe,  because  it  was  her  wish.  Not 
myself — I  was  what  they  call  the  happiest 
mortal  in  the  world.  Lothar?  Perhaps.  The 
poor  fellow  had  looked  on  me  as  his  second 
father,  and  I  was  removing  the  ground  from 
beneath  his  feet  by  going  over  bag  and  bag- 
gage to  the  enemy's  camp. 

So  that  was  the  way  I  kept  the  promise  I 
had  made  my  old  friend  Piitz  on  his  deathbed. 

Gentlemen,  any  of  you  who,  under  the  pres- 
sure of  circumstances,  have  found  yourselves 
in  the  council  of  the  wicked — that  thing  hap- 


IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING  65 

pens  once  in  his  life  to  every  good  man — will 
understand  me. 

I  thought  and  thought  day  and  night  and 
chewed  my  nails  bloody.  As  I  saw  no  other 
way  out  of  the  situation,  I  decided  to  heal  the 
breach  at  my  own  expense. 

It  wasn't  so  easy  for  me,  because  you  know, 
gentlemen,  we  country  squires  cling  to  our 
few  dollars.  But  what  doesn't  one  do  when 
one  is  officially  a  "good  fellow"? 

So  one  afternoon  I  went  to  see  my  father- 
in-law-elect,  and  found  him  in  his  so-called 
study  lolling  on  the  lounge.  I  put  the  propo- 
sition of  a  reconciliation  to  him  somewhat  hesi- 
tatingly— to  sound  him,  of  course.  As  I  ex- 
pected, he  instantly  flew  into  a  rage,  stormed, 
choked,  turned  blue,  and  declared  he'd  show 
me  the  door. 

"How  if  Lothar  sees  he's  wrong  and  gives 
up  the  case  as  lost?"  I  asked. 

Gentlemen,  have  you  ever  tickled  a  badger? 
I  mean  a  tame  or  a  half -tame  one?  When  he 
blinks  at  you  with  his  sleepy  little  eyes,  half 
suspicious,  half  pleased,  and  keeps  on  snarling 


66  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

softly?  That's  just  the  way  the  old  fellow  be- 
haved. 

"He  won't,"  he  said  after  a  while. 

"But  if  he  does?"  I  asked. 

"Then  you'll  be  the  one  to  fork  up  for  the 
whole  business,"  he  answered — the  fox — quick 
as  a  flash. 

"Should  I  lie?"  I  thought.  "Ah— bah,  the 
devil!"  And  I  confessed. 

"Nope,"  he  said  point-blank.  "Won't  do, 
my  boy.  I  won't  accept  it." 

"Why  not?" 

"On  account  of  the  children,  of  course.  I 
must  think  of  my  grandchildren,  in  case  you 
are  magnanimous  enough  to  present  me  with 
some.  I  can't  bequeath  anything  to  them,  so 
should  I  rob  them  besides?  I'll  win  the  suit 
in  all  events,  even  if  it  lasts  a  few  years  longer. 
I  can  wait." 

I  set  to  work  to  try  to  persuade  him. 

"The  money  remains  in  the  family,"  I  said. 
"I  pay  it  and  you  get  it.  After  your  death  it 
will  revert  to  me,  of  course." 

"Aha!     You're   already   counting   on  my 


IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING  67 

death?"  he  shouted,  and  began  to  rage  and 
storm  again.  "Do  you  want  me  to  lay  myself 
in  my  grave  alive,  so  that  you  can  round  off 
your  estate  with  Krakowitz?  I  suppose  it  has 
been  a  thorn  in  your  eyes  a  long  time,  my  beau- 
tiful Krakowitz  has." 

There  was  no  use  struggling  against  such  a 
bundle  of  unreason,  so  I  determined  upon 
force. 

"This  is  my  ultimatum,  father,"  I  said,  "set- 
tlement and  reconciliation  with  Lothar  Piitz 
are  the  sole  conditions  upon  which  I  enter  your 
family.  If  you  don't  agree  I  shall  have  to  ask 
lolanthe  to  set  me  free." 

That  brought  him  round. 

"A  man  can't  express  the  least  little  bit  of 
feeling  to  you,"  he  said.  "I  think  of  your 
children,  the  poor  unborn  little  mites,  and 
you  immediately  think  of  breaking  your  en- 
gagement and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  If  you 
insist,  I  won't  interfere  with  your  pleasure.  I 
have  no  personal  feelings  against  Lothar  Piitz. 
On  the  contrary,  I'm  told  he  is  a  magnificent 
fellow,  a  smart  rider,  a  dashing  young  sport. 


68  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

But  my  dear  man,  I'll  give  you  a  good  piece 
of  advice.  You're  going  to  have  a  young  girl 
for  your  wife.  If  she  were  not  my  own  daugh- 
ter and  so  raised  above  suspicion,  I  should 
suggest,  'Pick  a  quarrel  with  him,  make  him 
your  enemy,  insist  upon  payment  of  old  loans 
instead  of  making  a  new  one.'  Nothing  so  sure 
as  a  sure  thing,  you  know." 

Gentlemen,  until  then  I  had  taken  him  hu- 
morously, but  from  that  moment  on  I  hated 
him.  Just  let  the  wedding  be  over,  then  I'd 
shake  him  off. 

There  was  still  one  difficult  thing  to  do,  con- 
vince Lothar  that  the  old  fellow  admitted  he 
had  been  wrong  and  had  decided  to  give  up  the 
suit. 

The  coup  succeeded.  It  surprised  Lothar 
so  little  that  he  even  forgot  to  thank  me. 

Very  well,  all  the  same  to  me! 

I've  already  told  you  enough  about  lolanthe. 

The  tissue  of  such  a  relation,  with  its  at- 
tempts at  intimacy  and  its  chills,  with  its  ebb 
and  flow  of  confidence  and  timidity,  hope  and 


I OL  ANT  HE'S    WEDDING  69 

despair,  is  too  finely  woven  for  my  coarse 
hands  to  try  to  spread  it  out  before  you. 

To  her  credit  be  it  said,  she  honestly  at- 
tempted to  accommodate  herself  to  me. 

She  tried  to  discover  my  likes  and  dislikes. 
She  even  tried  to  adapt  her  thoughts  to  mine. 
Unfortunately  she  could  not  find  very  much 
there.  Where  she  in  the  freshness  of  her  mind 
took  it  for  granted  that  there  were  live  inter- 
ests, there  was  often  nothing  but  land  long  be- 
fore turned  waste.  That  is  what  is  so  horrible 
about  growing  old.  It  slowly  deadens  one 
nerve  after  the  other.  As  we  approach  the 
fifties,  both  work  and  rest  conspire  to  make 
an  end  of  us. 

Just  then  red  neckties  were  in  fashion.  I 
wore  a  red  necktie,  and  also  pointed  boots,  and 
silk  lapels  on  my  coat. 

I  presented  lolanthe  with  rich  gifts,  a  pearl 
necklace,  which  cost  three  thousand  dollars, 
and  a  famous  solitaire  that  had  come  up  for 
auction  in  Paris.  Every  day  roses  and  or- 
chids were  shipped  to  her  from  my  hothouses 


70  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

—but  by  express,  because  my  flowers  were  less 
valuable  than  my  colts. 

By  the  way,  my  colts,  you  know — but  no, 
I  didn't  set  out  to  tell  about  my  colts. 


CHAPTER  VI 

WELL,  at  this  point,  gentlemen,  I 
leave  a  blank  and  pass  on  to  the 
wedding  day. 

My  father-in-law,  who  always 
landed  on  his  feet  like  a  cat,  had  decided  to  ex- 
ploit my  popularity  for  his  own  ends,  and  he 
utilised  the  celebration  of  my  wedding  for  re- 
newing his  connection  with  all  the  people  who 
had  long  been  avoiding  him. 

He  dived  deep  into  his  pocket  and  arranged 
a  prodigious  feast,  at  which,  as  he  expressed 
it,  champagne  was  to  flow  in  rivulets  along  the 
table. 

No  need  to  tell  you  that  the  whole  hulla- 
baloo was  a  nuisance  to  me;  but  that's  just 
the  trouble  about  being  a  bridegroom.  He  is 
a  ridiculous  figure  whose  organs  of  will  have 
been  peeled  out  of  his  cranium  for  the  time 
being. 

On  the  morning  of  the  great  day  I  was  sit- 
71 


72  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

ting  in  my  study — very  cross — the  whole  house 
stinking  of  paint — when  the  door  opened  and 
Lothar  came  in. 

In  high  feather  apparently — had  on  top 
boots — threw  himself  on  my  neck.  Hurrah! 
Dear  old  uncle !  Travelled  all  night  to  be  here 
on  time;  won  the  prize  the  day  before  at  the 
steeplechase;  rode  like  the  devil;  didn't  break 
his  neck  anyhow;  drank  like  a  fish.  Still  he 
was  fresh ;  ready  to  dance  like  a  top ;  brought 
some  surprises  along — very  fiery  kind;  I  was 
to  give  him  twenty-five  men  to  drill  imme- 
diately— and  so  forth. 

It  came  out  in  a  stream  while  his  black  eye- 
brows kept  jerking  up  and  down  and  his  eyes 
glowed  from  under  them  like  burning  coals. 

"That  is  youth,"  I  reflected  and  suppressed 
a  sigh.  I  should  have  liked  to  borrow  those 
eyes  of  his  for  twenty-four  hours  and  every- 
thing else  that  went  with  them. 

"You  don't  ask  about  my  bride?"  I  ven- 
tured. 

He  laughed  very  loud.  "Uncle,  uncle, 
uncle!  A  pretty  business!  You  marrying? 


IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING  73 

You  marrying?  And  I  sending  off  the  sky 
rockets !  Hurrah !" 

And  still  laughing  he  ran  out  of  the  room. 

I  finished  my  cigar,  much  depressed.  After- 
wards, I  thought,  I  would  go  on  a  round  of 
inspection  through  the  renovated  rooms. 

In  front  of  the  bedroom  door  my  sister 
caught  me  just  as  she  was  having  her  luggage 
carried  away. 

"No  admission  here,"  she  said.  "This  is  to 
be  a  surprise  to  both  of  you." 

Both  of  us? 

Silly! 

About  eleven  o'clock  I  started  dressing. 
My  coat  cut  into  my  shoulders.  My  boots 
pinched  me  on  the  balls  of  my  feet.  For  thirty 
years  I  had  been  suffering  from  gout — a  se- 
quel to  the  Piitz  punches.  My  shirt  bosom 
stiff  as  a  board,  necktie  too  short,  everything 
awful. 

About  two  o'clock  I  drove  to  the  bride's 
home,  where  the  wedding  was  to  be  celebrated. 

And  now,  gentlemen,  comes  a  dream,  or 
rather  a  nightmare,  with  all  the  sensations  of 


74  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

choking,  of  being  strangled,  of  sinking  into  a 
pit. 

And  yet  full  of  happy  moments,  when  I 
thought,  "Everything  will  be  all  right.  You 
have  your  good  heart  and  your  fine  intentions. 
You  will  spread  a  carpet  for  her  to  tread  on. 
She  will  walk  the  earth  like  a  queen  and  never 
notice  her  chains." 

While  one  coach  after  another  came  rolling 
into  the  courtyard  and  a  gallery  of  strange 
faces  crowded  at  the  windows,  I  ran  about  the 
garden  like  one  possessed,  spattering  my  new 
fine  patent  leathers  with  mud,  and  letting  the 
tears  run  freely  down  my  cheeks. 

But  that  pleasure  was  cut  short.  They  were 
calling  out  for  me  everywhere. 

I  went  into  the  house.  The  old  man,  beside 
himself  with  glee  at  seeing  as  his  guests  all  his 
old  adversaries,  men  he  had  had  tilts  with,  or 
had  insulted,  or  cheated,  was  running  from  one 
to  the  other,  pressing  everybody's  hand  and 
swearing  eternal  friendship. 

I  wanted  to  say  "How  do  you  do"  to  a 
couple  of  friends  but  I  was  pushed  with  a  great 


IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING  75 

halloo  into  a  room  where  they  said  my  bride 
was  awaiting  me. 

There  she  stood. 

In  white  silk — bridal  veil  like  a  lighted  cloud 
around  her — myrtle  wreath  black  and  spiny 
on  her  hair — like  a  crown  of  thorns. 

I  had  to  shut  my  eyes  for  a  second,  she  was 
so  beautiful. 

Stretching  her  hands  out  toward  me  she 
said: 

"Are  you  satisfied?"  And  she  looked  at  me 
gently  with  an  expression  of  self -surrender ; 
and  her  face  with  the  smile  it  wore  seemed 
like  a  marble  mask. 

Then  I  was  overcome  with  happiness  and  a 
sense  of  guilt.  I  felt  like  dropping  down  on 
my  knees  and  begging  to  be  forgiven  for  hav- 
ing dared  to  want  her  for  myself.  But  I  was 
ashamed  to.  Her  mother  was  standing  behind 
her  and  her  bridesmaids  and  other  stupid 
things  were  also  there. 

I  mumbled  something  that  I  myself  did  not 
understand,  and  because  I  did  not  know  what 
else  to  say,  I  walked  up  and  down  in  front  of 


76  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

her  and  kept  buttoning  and  unbuttoning  my 
gloves. 

My  mother-in-law,  who  herself  did  not  know 
what  to  say,  smoothed  down  the  folds  of  lolan- 
the's  veil  and  looked  at  me  from  the  corner  of 
her  eye  half  reproachfully,  half  encouragingly. 

At  every  turn  I  ran  into  a  mirror,  and — 
willy-nilly — I  had  to  see  myself — my  bald 
forehead,  my  lobster-coloured  cheeks  with  the 
heavy  folds  running  into  my  chin,  and  the  wart 
under  the  left  corner  of  my  mouth.  I  saw  my 
collar,  which  was  much  too  tight — even  the 
widest  girthed  collar  had  not  been  wide  enough 
— and  I  saw  my  grubby  red  neck  bulging  over 
my  collar  all  around  like  a  wreath. 

I  saw  all  that,  and  at  each  turn  I  was  shaken 
with  a  mixed  feeling  of  madness  and  honesty, 
that  I  ought  to  cry  out  to  her,  "Have  pity  on 
yourself!  There  is  time  yet.  Let  me  go." 

You  must  remember  there  were  no  such 
things  as  civil  weddings  at  that  time  yet. 

I  should  never  have  brought  myself  to  the 
point  of  saying  it  even  if  I  had  kept  walking 
to  and  fro  for  a  thousand  years.  Neverthe- 


IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING  77 

less,  when  the  old  man  came  sidling  in,  watch- 
ful as  a  weasel,  to  say,  "Come  along,  the  pas- 
tor is  waiting!"  I  felt  injured,  as  though  some 
deep-laid  plan  of  mine  had  been  thwarted. 

I  offered  lolanthe  my  arm.  The  folding 
doors  were  pulled  open. 

Faces!  Faces!  Endless  masses  of  faces! 
As  if  glued  to  one  another.  And  all  of  them 
leered  at  me  as  if  to  say: 

"Hanckel,  you  are  making  an  ass  of  your- 
self." 

An  avenue  formed  itself  between  them,  and 
we  walked  down  the  avenue  while  I  kept  think- 
ing in  the  deathlike  silence,  "Strange  that  no- 
body bursts  out  laughing." 

So  we  reached  the  altar,  which  the  old  man 
had  constructed  with  awful  skill  of  a  large 
packing  box  covered  with  red  bunting.  And 
quite  an  exhibition  of  flowers  and  candles  on 
it,  with  a  crucifix  in  the  middle,  as  at  a  funeral. 

The  pastor  was  standing  in  front  of  us.  He 
put  on  his  solemn  ministerial  air  and  stroked 
back  the  wide  sleeves  of  his  vestment  like  a 
sleight-of-hand  man  about  to  begin  his  tricks. 


78  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

First  a  hymn — five  stanzas — then  the  ser- 
mon. 

I  have  not  the  slightest  idea  what  the  pastor 
said,  for  suddenly  a  perverse  thought  entered 
my  brain  and  became  a  fixed  idea  not  to  be 
shaken  off. 

She  will  say,  "No!" 

And  the  nearer  we  drew  to  the  decisive  mo- 
ment the  more  the  anguish  of  that  thought 
throttled  me.  Finally  I  had  not  the  least  doubt 
in  the  world  that  she  would  say  "No." 

Gentlemen,  she  said  "Yes." 

I  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief,  like  a  criminal 
who  has  just  heard  the  verdict  "Not  guilty." 

And  now  the  strangest  thing  of  all. 

Scarcely  had  the  word  crossed  her  lips  and 
the  fear  of  humiliation  been  lifted  from  my 
soul  than  I  began  to  wish,  "Oh,  if  only  she 
had  said  'No'." 

After  the  Amen  there  were  congratulations 
without  end.  I  shook  one  hand  after  another 
with  genuine  fervour.  "Thank  you"  here, 
"Thank  you"  there.  I  was  grateful  from 
the  bottom  of  my  heart  to  every  fellow  there 


IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING  79 

because  in  anticipation  of  the  excellent  food 
and  drink  to  follow  he  bestowed  his  polite  con- 
gratulations upon  me. 

Only  one  person  was  missing — Lothar. 

He  stood  in  the  back  row  looking  quite  sal- 
low, as  though  he  were  hungry  or  felt  bored. 

"There  he  is,  lolanthe,"  I  said  and  caught 
hold  of  him.  "Lothar  Piitz — Piitz's  only  son 
— my  own  boy.  Shake  hands  with  him.  Call 
him  Lothar!"  She  still  hesitated,  so  I  placed 
her  hand  in  his  and  thought  to  myself,  "Thank 
God  he  is  here.  He  will  help  us  over  many 
a  difficult  hour." 

Please  don't  smile,  gentlemen.  You  think 
that  in  the  course  of  my  married  life  a  love 
relation  slowly  developed  between  the  two 
young  people.  Not  a  bit  of  it. 

Just  a  little  patience.  Something  very  dif- 
ferent is  going  to  come. 

Well,  to  proceed.    We  went  to  table. 

Everything  according  to  form  and  in  abunj 
dance.  Flowers,  silverware,  baumkuchen. 

To  begin  with,  a  little  glass  of  sherry  to 
warm  up  your  stomach.  The  sherry  was  good 


80  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

but  the  glass  was  small  and  I  could  not  see 
any  more  sherry  about. 

"Now  you  must  be  very  gallant  and  tender 
to  her,"  I  said  to  myself  and  looked  at  her 
sidewise.  Her  elbow  was  grazing  my  arm  and 
I  could  feel  how  she  was  trembling. 

"She's  hungry,"  I  thought,  for  I  had  not 
eaten  a  thing  myself  yet. 

Her  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  candelabra  in 
front  of  her.  Their  silvery  sheen  in  the  course 
of  the  years  had  faded  and  wrinkled  like  the 
skin  of  an  old  woman. 

Her  profile!    God,  how  beautiful! 

And  that  was  to  belong  to  me. 

Nonsense ! 

And  I  tossed  off  a  tumblerful  of  thin  Rhine 
wine,  which  gurgled  in  my  empty  stomach  like 
bubbles  in  a  duck  puddle. 

"This  is  not  the  way  to  muster  up  tender- 
ness," I  thought,  looking  around  longingly  for 
the  sherry. 

Then  I  pulled  myself  together.  "Please  eat 
something,"  I  said,  satisfied  that  I  had  done 
something  marvellous. 


IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING  81 

She  nodded  and  lifted  her  spoon  to  her 
mouth. 

After  the  soup  came  some  excellent  fish, 
Rhine  salmon  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  and  the 
sauce  had  the  proper  admixture  of  brandy, 
lemon  juice  and  capers.  Delicious,  in  short. 

Then  came  venison.  Pretty  good  even  if 
a  little  too  fresh  still.  Well,  on  this  point  opin- 
ions differ. 

"Do  eat  something,"  I  said  again,  pursing 
my  lips  so  that  people  should  think  that  what 
I  was  whispering  was  a  compliment  or  some- 
thing sentimental. 

No,  that  sort  of  thing  didn't  get  me  any 
farther. 

Already  I  had  disposed  of  the  second  bottle 
of  the  thin  Rhine  wine  and  began  to  swell  like 
a  balloon. 

I  looked  around  for  Lothar,  who  had  in- 
herited from  his  father  a  scent  for  everything 
drinkable,  but  he  had  been  seated  somewhere 
downstairs. 

Then  I  was  saved  by  a  toast,  which  gave  me 
a  chance  to  stand  up.  On  my  rounds  I  dis- 


82  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

covered  a  small  but  select  company  of  sherry 
bottles  which  the  old  man  had  hidden  behind 
a  curtain. 

I  picked  up  two  of  them  quickly  and  started 
to  pour  courage  into  me.  It  was  a  slow  proc- 
ess but  it  succeeded.  I  can  stand  a  good  deal, 
you  know,  gentlemen. 

After  the  venison  came  a  salmi  of  partridges. 
Two  successive  dishes  of  game  are  not  quite 
the  right  thing,  but  they  were  mighty  tasty. 

At  just  about  this  point  something  like  a 
wall  of  mist  loosened  itself  from  the  ceiling 
and  descended  slowly — slowly. 

Now  I  was  tossing  gallantries  right  and  left. 
I  tell  you,  gentlemen,  I  was  going  it. 

I  called  my  bride  "enchantress"  and  "charm- 
ing sprite,"  and  told  a  rather  broad  hunting 
story,  and  explained  to  my  neighbours  of  what 
use  the  experiences  are  that  a  bachelor  of  to- 
day acquires  before  marrying. 

To  be  brief,  gentlemen,  I  was  irresistible. 

But  the  wall  of  mist  kept  sinking  deeper  and 
deeper.  It  was  like  in  mountain  regions, 
where  first  the  highest  summits  disappear  and 


IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING  83 

then  little  by  little  the  mountain  side,  one 
ledge  after  another. 

First  the  lights  in  the  candelabra  got  reddish 
halos  round  them.  They  looked  like  small  suns 
in  a  vapoury  atmosphere  with  rainbow  rays 
radiating  from  them.  Then  gradually  every- 
body sitting  behind  the  candelabra  talking  and 
rattling  forks  disappeared  from  sight  and 
sound.  Only  at  intervals  did  a  white  shirt 
bosom  or  a  bit  of  a  woman's  arm  gleam  from 
the  "purple  darkness" — isn't  that  what  Schil- 
ler calls  it? 

Oh,  yes!    Something  else  struck  me. 

My  father-in-law  was  running  around  with 
two  bottles  of  champagne,  and  whenever  he 
saw  an  entirely  empty  glass,  he  would  say, 
"Please  do  have  some  more.  Why  don't  you 
drink?" 

"You  old  fraud !"  I  said  when  he  bobbed  up 
back  of  me,  and  I  pinched  his  leg,  "is  that  what 
you  call  letting  it  flow  in  rivulets  ?" 

You  see,  gentlemen,  my  condition  was  grow- 
ing dangerous.  And  all  of  a  sudden  I  felt  my 
heart  expanding.  I  had  to  talk.  I  simply  had 


84  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

to  talk.  So  I  struck  my  glass  madly  for 
silence. 

"For  heaven's  sake — keep  quiet!"  my  bride 
— I  beg  your  pardon,  my  wife — whispered  in 
my  ear. 

But  even  if  it  cost  me  my  life  I  had  to  talk. 

What  I  said  was  reported  to  me  afterwards, 
and  if  my  authorities  tell  the  truth,  it  was 
something  like  the  following: 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  am  no  longer 
young.  But  I  do  not  regret  that  at  all,  for 
maturity  also  hath  its  joys.  And  if  anybody 
were  to  assert  that  youth  can  be  happy  only 
when  wedded  to  youth,  I  would  say,  'An  in- 
famous lie!  I  myself  am  proof  of  the  con- 
trary. For  I  am  no  longer  young,  but  I  am 
going  to  make  my  young  wife  happy  because 
my  wife  is  an  angel — and  I  have  a  loving 
heart — yea,  I  swear  I  have  a  loving  heart,  and 
whoever  says  that  here  underneath  my  waist- 
coat— there  beats  no  loving  heart — to  him — I 
would  like  to  lay  bare  my  heart ' ' 

At  this  point,  according  to  reports,  my 
words  were  choked  by  tears,  and  in  the  middle 


IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING  85 

of  my  abject  outpourings  I  was  hustled  from 
the  room. 

•  •  •  •  • 

When  I  awoke  I  was  lying  on  a  couch  much 
too  short  for  me,  with  all  kinds  of  fur  collars 
and  caps  and  woollen  wraps  thrown  over  me. 
My  neck  was  strained,  my  legs  numb. 

I  looked  around. 

On  a  console  under  a  mirror  a  single  candle 
was  burning.  Brushes,  combs,  and  boxes  of 
pins  lay  beside  it.  On  the  walls  hung  a  mass 
of  cloaks,  hats  and  all  that  sort  of  thing. 

Oho,  the  ladies'  dressing  room! 

Slowly  I  became  conscious  of  what  had  hap- 
pened. I  looked  at  the  clock.  Nearly  two. 
Somewhere,  as  though  at  a  great  distance, 
the  playing  of  a  piano  and  the  scraping  and 
sliding  of  dancing  feet  in  time  with  the  music. 

My  wedding! 

I  combed  my  hair,  arranged  my  necktie,  and 
heartily  wished  I  might  lie  right  down  in  my 
lovely  hard  camp  bed  and  pull  the  covers  over 
my  ears,  instead  of — brr! 

Well,  there  was  nothing  to  be  done  about 


86  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

it.  So  I  started  for  the  reception  rooms, 
though  without  any  real  feeling  of  shame,  as 
I  was  still  too  sleepy  and  drowsy  to  compre- 
hend the  state  I  was  in  fully. 

At  first  nobody  noticed  me. 

In  the  rooms  where  the  gentlemen  were  sit- 
ting the  smoke  was  so  thick  that  at  only  a  few 
feet  away  all  you  could  discern  was  merely  the 
vague  outlines  of  human  bodies.  A  very  steep 
game  of  cards  was  under  way,  and  my  father- 
in-law  was  relieving  his  guests  of  their  money 
so  neatly  that  had  he  had  three  more  daughters 
to  marry  off  he  would  have  become  a  rich  man. 

He  called  it  "making  wedding  expenses." 

I  glanced  in  at  the  room  where  the  dancing 
was  going  on.  The  dowagers  were  fighting 
off  sleep,  the  young  people  were  hopping 
about  mechanically,  while  the  pianist  opened 
his  eyes  only  when  he  struck  a  wrong  note. 
My  sister  was  holding  a  glass  of  lemonade  on 
her  lap  and  was  inspecting  the  lemon  seeds. 
It  was  a  doleful  sight. 

lolanthe  nowhere  to  be  seen. 

I  returned  to  the  card  tables  and  tapped  the 


IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING  87 

old  man  on  his  shoulder  as  he  was  scooping 
up  the  stake  he  had  just  won  and  was  stuffing 
it  into  his  pocket. 

He  turned  on  me  savagely. 

"Well,  you  drunkard,  you!"1 

"Where  is  lolanthe?" 

"I  don't  know.  Go  find  her."  And  he  went 
on  playing. 

The  other  gentlemen  looked  embarrassed, 
but  acted  as  though  nothing  had  happened. 
"Won't  you  try  your  luck,  young  Benedict?" 
they  clamoured. 

So  I  made  off  with  all  haste,  for  I  knew  my 
weakness.  Had  I  taken  a  hand,  there  would 
have  been  another  scandal. 

I  sneaked  around  outside  the  dancing  hall. 
I  did  not  feel  equal  to  meeting  the  glances  of 
the  dowagers. 

In  the  corridor  a  tin  kitchen  lamp  was  smok- 
ing, from  the  pantries  came  the  rattle  of  plates 
and  the  giggling  of  half-drunken  kitchen 
maids. 

Awful! 

I  knocked  on  the  door  of  lolanthe's  room. 


88  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

No  answer.  Knocked  again.  Everything 
quiet.  So  I  went  in. 

And  what  did  I  see? 

My  mother-in-law  sitting  on  the  edge  of  the 
bed  and  my  wife  kneeling  beside  her  dressed 
already  in  her  black  travelling  gown,  her  head 
in  her  mother's  lap,  and  both  women  crying. 
It  was  enough  to  move  a  stone  to  pity. 

Oh,  gentlemen,  how  I  felt! 

I  should  have  liked  to  rush  to  my  carriage, 
call  "To  the  station"  to  the  coachman,  and 
take  the  first  train  out  of  the  place — to  Amer- 
ica, or  any  place  where  embezzling  cashiers 
and  prodigal  sons  go  to  and  disappear. 

But  that  wouldn't  do. 

"lolanthe,"  I  said  humbly  and  contritely. 

Both  the  women  screamed.  My  wife  clasped 
her  mother's  knees,  while  the  mother  put  pro- 
tecting arms  around  her. 

"I  won't  annoy  you,  lolanthe;  I  only  ask 
your  forgiveness  because,  out  of  love  for  you, 
I  was  so  reckless." 

A  long  silence — broken  only  by  her  sob- 
bing. 


IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING  89 

Then  her  mother  spoke. 

"He  is  right,  child.  You  must  get  up.  It's 
time  for  you  to  be  going."  lolanthe  rose 
slowly,  her  cheeks  wet,  her  eyes  red  as  fire,  her 
body  still  shaken  with  sobs.  "Give  him  your 
hand.  It  can't  be  helped." 

Very  pleasant  remark — "It  can't  be  helped." 

And  lolanthe  gave  me  her  hand,  and  I  raised 
it  reverently  to  my  lips. 

"George,  have  you  seen  my  husband?"  asked 
my  mother-in-law. 

"Yes." 

"Please  call  him.  lolanthe  wants  to  say 
good-bye." 

I  went  back  to  the  card  room. 

"Father!" 

"Twelve,  sixteen,  twenty-seven,  thirty-one." 

"Father!" 

"Thirty-three — what  do  you  want?" 

"We  want  to  say  good-bye." 

"Well — go — and  God  bless  you — and  be 
happy ! — thirty-six " 

"Don't  you  want  to  see  lolanthe?" 

"Thirty-nine — won! — out  with  the  cash! — 


90  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

who's  still  got  the  courage  for  another? 
George,  won't  you  take  a  little  flyer  with  us?" 

I  got  out  of  the  room. 

I  told  the  ladies  as  considerately  as  I  could 
that  the  Baron  would  not  come.  They  merely 
looked  at  each  other  and  then  led  the  way 
through  the  smoky  corridor  to  the  back  steps, 
where  the  carriage  was  waiting. 

The  wind  was  whistling  in  our  ears  and  a 
few  scattering  raindrops  struck  our  faces.  The 
two  women  clung  to  each  other  without  say- 
ing anything  as  though  they  would  never  let 
each  other  go. 

Now  the  old  man,  who  had  evidently  thought 
better  of  it,  came  running  out  with  a  great 
hullabaloo,  and  behind  him  the  maids,  whom 
he  had  summoned,  with  lamps  and  candles. 

He  threw  himself  between  mother  and 
daughter  and  let  loose. 

"My  dear  child,  if  the  blessing  of  a  loving 
i  a  iiier 

She  shook  him  off — just  like  a  wet  dog. 
With  a  jump  into  the  carriage — I  behind — 
off! 


CHAPTER  VII 


1 


we  were  seated  together. 
Torches  flickering  at  the  gate. 
Then  everything  dark  and  black. 

Gentlemen,  that  was  a  memorable 
ride! 

The  carriage  wheels  splashed  through  the 
mud  puddles — ss-ss-ss.  The  wind  whistled 
and  howled.  The  rain  drummed  on  the  top  of 
the  carriage — tara  tata!  Tara  tata! 

"And  now,  what  are  you  going  to  do  with 
her?"  I  asked  myself. 

She  was  not  to  be  seen,  heard,  or  felt.  As 
if  I  were  driving  through  the  night  absolutely 
by  myself.  It  was  not  until  we  reached  the 
woods  and  the  light  from  the  lanterns  shone 
on  the  wet  birch  trees  so  that  a  gleam  of  light 
was  reflected  back  into  the  carriage  that  I  saw 
her  cowering  in  the  corner  as  though  she  were 
trying  to  press  through  the  side  and  throw  her- 
self out. 

01 


92  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

Good  Heavens!  Such  a  poor  little  thing! 
Bereft  of  all  that  made  up  her  old  existence 
and  beholding  in  her  new  world  nothing  but 
an  oldish  fellow  who  had  just  been  dead  drunk. 

The  devil !    How  ashamed  of  myself  I  felt. 

"lolanthe." 

But,  of  course,  I  had  to  say  something. 

Not  a  sound. 

"Are  you  afraid  of  me?" 

"Yes." 

"Won't  you  give  me  your  hand?" 

"Yes." 

"Where  is  it?" 

"Here." 

Slowly  —  very  slowly  —  something  soft 
touched  my  sleeve.  I  caught  it,  I  held  it  fast, 
I  covered  it  up. 

Poor  thing!    Poor  thing! 

And  at  the  same  time  a  kind  of — I  might 
call  it  "sacred  fire"  if  I  wanted  to  be  senti- 
mental— took  possession  of  me.  In  my  hour 
of  need,  I  found  beautiful,  warm,  comforting 
words  to  say  to  her. 

"You  see,  lolanthe,"  I  said,  "you  are  now 


IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING  93 

my  wife.  There's  no  changing  that.  And, 
after  all,  you  wanted  it  yourself.  But  you 
mustn't  suppose  I  shall  bother  you  with  all 
sorts  of  amorous  ways  and  make  demands.  It 
is  a  true  friend  who  is  sitting  here  beside  you 
—I  may  say  a  fatherly  friend,  if  you  can  get 
any  comfort  out  of  that — because  I  haven't  the 
least  idea  of  trying  to  disguise  the  fact  that  I 
am  much  older  than  you.  So,  my  dear,  if  your 
heart  is  heavy  and  if  you  want  to  cry  to  your 
heart's  content,  you'll  never  find  a  breast  on 
which  you  can  rest  more  securely.  Always 
come  to  me  for  refuge,  just  come  to  me  even 
if  you  do  feel  that  I  am  the  enemy  from  whom 
you  are  seeking  refuge." 

That  was  very  nicely  said,  wasn't  it?  It 
was  inspired  by  my  sympathy  and  by  my  pure 
unqualified  good  will. 

Poor  old  me!  As  if  a  little  bit  of  youthful 
fervour  were  not  worth  a  thousand  times  more 
than  the  deepest  sympathy  and  all  that.  But 
at  the  moment  the  impression  of  what  I  said 
was  so  strong  that  I  myself  was  frightened. 

With  one  bound  she  was  out  of  her  corner, 


94  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

with  her  arms  round  my  neck,  kissing  my  face 
through  her  veil  and  saying  between  sobs: 

"Forgive  me — forgive  me,  you  dear,  dear 
man." 

At  this  I  thought  of  the  scene  at  our  en- 
gagement when  she  had  puzzled  me  by  the 
same  behaviour. 

"What's  all  this?"  I  said.  "What  am  I  al- 
ways to  forgive  you  for?" 

She  did  not  answer.  She  merely  withdrew 
to  her  corner,  and  from  then  on  not  another 
sound  from  her  lips. 

The  rain  had  stopped  falling,  but  the  wind 
blew  at  the  carriage  windows  more  madly  than 
ever.  Then — suddenly — a  flash  of  lightning! 
And  hard  upon  it  a  peal  of  thunder. 

The  horses  reared  and  curvetted  toward  the 
ditch. 

"Rein  them  in  tight,  John!"  I  cried.  Of 
course  he  didn't  hear  me.  However,  the  beasts 
stood  still.  His  fists  were  like  iron.  I  never 
had  a  better  coachman. 

The  thunderbolt  turned  out  to  be  nothing 
but  a  signal.  Peal  after  peal  followed — right 


IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING  95 

and  left — everywhere.  Flaming  roofs,  balls 
of  fire,  towers  aglow,  and  the  park  all  alight 
with  a  beautiful  emerald  green. 

My  good  old  Ilgenstein  transformed  into  a 
real  fairy  castle. 

A  shiver  of  pure  delight  went  through  me 
at  being  able  to  show  her  the  new  home  bathed 
in  such  splendour.  All  this  I  owed  to  Lothar 
— the  dear  boy — and  perhaps  much  more.  For 
often  it  is  the  first  impression  that  casts  the 
lot  for  a  whole  life. 

lolanthe  leaned  out  of  the  carriage  window, 
and  in  the  red  glow  I  saw  her  eyes  looking 
ahead  in  a  kind  of  eager  or  anxious  searching. 

"All  this  is  yours,  my  dear,"  I  said  and  tried 
to  find  her  hand. 

But  she  did  not  hear  me.  She  seemed  to  be 
completely  overwhelmed  by  the  beautiful  pic- 
ture. 

As  we  drew  into  the  court,  bedlam  broke 
loose — a  shouting  and  shooting,  drums  and 
trumpets,  torches  and  lanterns  on  all  sides,  and 
faces  blackened  by  smoke,  glowing  eyes,  open 
mouths. 


96  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

"Hurrah!  Long  live  his  Lordship!  Long 
live  her  Grace !  Hurrah!"  Such  a  trampling 
and  waving  of  hats!  The  horde  of  them  be- 
haved as  though  possessed. 

"Well,"  I  thought  to  myself,  "now  she  cer- 
tainly must  see  that  she  isn't  married  to  a  bad 
man,  since  his  servants  love  him  so  much," 
and,  primed  for  emotion  as  one'  is  at  such 
times,  I  began  to  blubber  a  bit. 

When  the  carriage  stopped,  I  saw  Lothar 
standing  in  front  of  the  door  among  the  in- 
spectors and  apprentices.  I  jumped  out  and 
took  him  into  my  arms. 

"My  boy!  My  dear,  dear  boy!"  In  my 
thankfulness  I  could  have  kissed  his  hand. 

When  I  started  to  assist  my  young  wife  out 
of  the  carriage,  that  unfortunate  creature,  the 
chief  inspector,  in  the  midst  of  the  excitement, 
started  to  treat  us  to  a  solemn  speech. 

"For  God's  sake,  Baumann,"  I  said,  "we'll 
take  all  that  for  granted,"  and  I  helped 
lolanthe  into  the  house. 

There  the  housemaids  were  standing,  curt- 
seying and  tittering,  the  housekeeper  at  their 


IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING  97 

head.     But  lolanthe  stared  right  past  them. 

Then  I  was  seized  by  dread  of  what  was  to 
come. 

"Oh,  if  you  had  not  sent  your  sister  away!" 
I  thought,  and  looking  around  for  help  I  spied 
Lothar  in  the  doorway  apparently  about  to 
take  leave.  I  rushed  over  to  him  and  caught 
his  hands. 

"Come  now,  you  aren't  leaving  us,  are  you? 
After  all  this  trouble  we  must  have  something 
hot  together — what  do  you  say?" 

He  turned  red  as  blood,  but  I  led  him  over 
to  lolanthe,  who  had  just  been  relieved  of  her 
hat  and  cloak. 

"You  must  help  me  persuade  him  to  stay, 
lolanthe.  His  exertions  for  us  have  surely 
earned  him  a  cup  of  tea." 

"I  ask  you,"  she  said,  without  even  raising 
her  eyes. 

He  made  a  stiff  bow,  and  pulled  at  his 
moustache. 

I  led  them  through  the  lighted  halls  to  the 
dining-room. 

She  looked  neither  to  the  right  nor  the  left. 


98  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

All  the  splendour  brought  into  being  for  her 
sake  shone  unnoticed.  Two  or  three  times  she 
reeled  on  my  arm,  and  at  each  crisis  I  looked 
anxiously  about  to  see  if  the  boy  was  with  us. 

Praised  be  the  Lord!    He  was  still  there! 

In  the  dining-room  the  tea  kettle  was  boil- 
ing, by  my  sister's  orders  before  she  left. 

"Suppose  you  send  for  her?"  flashed  through 
my  mind.  "One  carriage  hurried  off  to  Krak- 
owitz,  another  to  Gorowen — and  she  might  be 
here  inside  of  an  hour." 

But  I,  poor  old  blade,  was  ashamed  to  ad- 
mit my  helplessness.  Besides,  there  was 
Lothar  for  me  to  cling  to  in  my  desperation. 

Thank  God,  Lothar  was  still  with  us. 

"Well,  be  seated,  children."  I  assumed  the 
air  of  being  wonderfully  at  ease. 

I  can  still  see  the  whole  scene.  The  snowy 
white  tablecloth,  the  Meissen  china,  the  old 
silver  sugar  bowl,  the  hanging  lamp  of  copper 
overhead  and  in  its  hard  light,  to  my  right, 
lolanthe,  pale,  stiff ,  with  half-closed  eyes,  like 
a  somnambulist;  to  my  left,  Lothar  with  his 
bushy  hair  and  firm  brown  cheeks  and  the  som- 


IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING  99 

bre  fold  between  his  brows,  his  eyes  fixed  on 
the  tablecloth. 

Seeing  that  evidently  the  boy  felt  de  trop 
and  would  much  rather  have  run  away,  I  laid 
my  hands  affectionately  on  his  shoulders  and 
thanked  him  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart  for 
the  torture  he  was  imposing  upon  himself. 

"Take  a  good  look  at  him,  lolanthe,"  I  said. 
"We  three  shall  be  sitting  here  like  this  many 
a  time  again,  enjoying  each  other's  company." 

She  nodded  very  slowly  and  closed  her  eyes 
altogether. 

Poor  thing!  Poor  thing!  And  the  dread 
almost  took  my  breath  away. 

"Be  jolly,  children,"  I  said.  "Lothar,  tell 
us  something  funny — out  of  your  own  life. 
Come  on  now.  Have  you  anything  to  smoke? 
No?  Wait  a  moment,  I'll  get  you  something." 

And  in  my  anguish  I  made  for  the  cigar 
cabinet  in  the  next  room,  as  though  a  good 
smoke  would  bring  everything  to  a  happy  end- 
ing. 

And  then,  gentlemen,  when  I  came  back 
with  the  box  under  my  arm,  I  saw  something 


100  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

through  the  open  door  that  stopped  the  blood 
in  my  veins. 

Only  once  in  my  life  have  I  experienced  a 
similar  shock.  That  was  one  evening  when  I 
was  still  a  young  cuirassier  and  I  came  home 
from  a  jolly  party  to  find  a  telegram  for  me 
with  the  pleasant  message,  "Father  just  died." 

But  now  as  to  what  it  was  that  I  saw,  gen- 
tlemen. 

The  two  young  people  were  sitting  still  and 
stiff  on  their  chairs,  as  before,  but  they  had,  so 
to  speak,  dipped  their  eyes  into  each  other's, 
and  there  was  a  wild,  despairing,  insane  glow 
in  them  such  as  I  had  never  thought  could 
shine  out  of  human  eyes.  It  was  like  two 
flames  darting  sparks  into  each  other. 

So  there  I  was.  Not  yet  my  wife,  and  al- 
ready my  friend,  my  son,  my  favourite,  be- 
traying me  with  her. 

Adultery  in  the  house  even  before  the  mar- 
riage had  really  been  consummated. 

In  that  look  my  whole  future — an  existence 
of  suspicion,  and  dread  and  gloom  and  ridicule, 


IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING  101 

full  of  grey  days  and  sleepless  nights — lay  un- 
rolled before  me  like  a  map. 

What  was  I  to  do,  gentlemen? 

My  impulse  was  to  take  her  by  the  hand  and 
say  to  him,  "She's  yours,  my  boy.  I  have  no 
longer  any  right  over  her." 

But  please  put  yourselves  in  my  position. 
A  look  is  something  intangible  and  undemon- 
strable.  It  may  be  denied  with  a  smile.  And, 
after  all,  might  I  not  have  been  mistaken? 

And  while  I  revolved  this  in  my  mind,  the 
two  pairs  of  eyes  continued  to  cling  to  each 
other  in  complete  oblivion  of  everything  about 
them. 

When  I  walked  into  the  room,  there  was  not 
even  a  twitch  of  an  eyelid.  They  even  turned 
toward  me  as  if  in  surprise  and  indignation  and 
as  if  to  ask: 

"Why  does  this  old  man,  this  stranger,  in- 
trude upon  us?" 

I  felt  inclined  to  roar  out  like  a  wounded 
beast.  However,  I  collected  myself  and  of- 
fered the  cigars.  But  I  felt  I  had  to  put  an 
end  to  the  business  quickly.  All  kinds  of  red 


102  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

suns  were  beginning  to  dance  in  front  of  my 
eyes. 

So  I  said,  "Go  home,  my  boy,  it's  time." 

He  rose  heavily,  gave  me  an  icy  handshake, 
and  made  his  lieutenant's  bow  to  her  with 
joined  heels,  and  turned  towards  the  door. 

Then  I  heard  a  cry — a  cry  that  pierced  me 
to  the  quick. 

And  what  did  I  see? 

My  wife,  my  young  wife,  lying  at  his  feet, 
holding  on  to  his  coat  with  both  hands,  and 
crying,  "You  must  not  die!  You  must  not 
die!" 

Well,  gentlemen,  the  catastrophe  at  last! 

For  a  moment  I  stood  like  a  man  hit  over 
the  head.  Then  I  caught  Lothar  by  the  col- 
lar. 

"Stop,  my  boy,"  I  said,  "that's  enough.  I 
won't  have  any  tricks  played  on  me." 

Still  holding  his  collar  I  led  him  gently  back 
to  his  seat,  closed  the  doors,  and  lifted  my  wife, 
who  was  lying  on  the  floor  weeping  convul- 
sively, to  a  couch. 

But  she  caught  my  hands  and  started  to  kiss 


IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING  103 

them,  whimpering,  "Don't  let  him  go!  He 
wants  to  kill  himself — he  wants  to  kill  him- 
self!" 

"And  why  do  you  want  to  kill  yourself,  my 
boy?"  said  I.  "If  you  had  prior  rights  to  mine, 
why  did  you  not  assert  them?  Why  did  you 
deceive  your  best  friend?" 

He  pressed  his  hands  to  his  forehead  and 
remained  silent. 

Then  I  fell  into  a  rage  and  said,  "Say  some- 
thing, or  I'll  knock  you  down  like  a  mad  dog!" 

"Do  it,"  he  said,  stretching  out  his  arms. 
"I  have  deserved  nothing  better." 

"Deserved  or  not — now  you  must  tell  me 
what  all  this  means." 

Well,  gentlemen,  then  I  learned  the  whole 
pretty  story  from  the  two  of  them  together,  to 
the  accompaniment  of  self-reproaches,  tears 
and  bended  knees. 

Years  before  they  had  met  in  the  woods  and 
fell  in  love  for  ever  after — hopelessly  and 
silently,  as  behooved  the  offspring  of  two  feud- 
ing families — Montagues  and  Capulets. 


104  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

"Did  you  confess  your  love  to  each  other?" 

No,  but  they  had  kissed  each  other. 

"And  then?" 

Then  he  had  gone  on  garrison  duty  in  Ber- 
lin and  they  heard  no  more  of  each  other.  They 
did  not  dare  to  write,  and  each  was  uncertain 
of  the  other's  affection. 

Then  came  the  death  of  old  Piitz  and  my  at- 
tempt to  bring  about  a  reconciliation.  When 
I  appeared  at  Krakowitz,  lolanthe  conceived 
the  plan  at  first  of  making  me  a  confident  of 
her  love.  In  fact,  she  hoped  to  receive  a  mes- 
sage through  me.  Nothing  of  the  kind.  In- 
stead, I  misunderstood  her  tender  glances  and 
played  the  enamoured  swain  myself.  Then, 
when  her  father's  burst  of  rage  proved  clearly 
that  there  never  would  be  a  bit  of  hope  for  her, 
she  decided  in  her  despair  to  avail  herself  of 
the  one  possible  way  of  at  least  getting  near 
her  beloved. 

"Ah,  but,  my  dear,  that  was  really  a  con- 
temptible thing  for  you  to  do." 

"But  I  longed  for  him  so,"  she  answered, 
as  though  that  made  everything  right. 


IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING  105 

"Very  good — excellent!  But  you,  my  son, 
why  didn't  you  come  and  say,  'Uncle,  I  love 
her,  she  loves  me,  hands  off!' ' 

"But  I  did  not  know  if  she  still  loved  me." 

"Splendid!  You  are  a  precious  pair  of  in- 
nocents, you  two.  When  did  you  finally  find 
out?" 

"To-day — while  you  were  asleep." 

And  now  came  a  terrible  story.  After  din- 
ner, on  leaving  the  table,  a  single  handshake 
in  silence  showed  each  how  miserable  the  other 
one  was,  and  seeing  no  way  out,  they  decided 
to  die  that  very  night. 

"What!    You,  too?" 

Instead  of  answering  lolanthe  pulled  out  of 
her  pocket  a  little  bottle  from  which  a  human 
skull  grinned  at  me. 

"What's  that?" 

"Cyanide  of  potassium." 

"The  devil !    Where  did  you  get  that  from  ?" 

Presented  to  her  some  years  ago  by  a  friend 
of  hers  at  the  dancing  school,  a  chemist  whose 
head  she  had  turned.  She  had  asked  him  to 
give  her  the  pleasant  drink. 


106  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

"And  you  were  going  to  take  that  stuff,  you 
little  goose,  you?" 

She  looked  at  me  with  big  glaring  eyes  and 
nodded  two  or  three  times. 

I  understood  very  well,  and  a  shudder  passed 
down  my  back.  A  fine  bridal  night  it  might 
have  been! 

"And  now?  What  am  I  going  to  do  with  the 
two  of  you  now?" 

"Save  us!    Help  us!    Have  mercy  on  us!" 

They  were  on  their  knees  before  me,  licking 
my  hands. 

And  because  I,  as  you  know,  gentlemen,  am 
a  professional  good  fellow,  I  devised  a  means 
of  bringing  my  failure  of  a  marriage  to  a 
speedy  end. 

John  was  ordered  to  hitch  up,  and  fifteen 
minutes  later,  without  any  to-do,  I  was  driving 
my  twelve-hour  bride  to  Gorowen  to  my  sis- 
ter, under  whose  protection  she  was  to  remain 
until  the  divorce  had  been  decreed — under 
no  circumstances  would  she  return  to  her 
father's  house. 


IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING  107 

Lothar  asked  me  quite  naively  if  he  might 
not  go  with  us. 

"You  rascal !"  I  said.    "Off  home  with  you !" 
At  the  right  time  and  place,  gentlemen,  I 

can  be  very  severe. 

•  •  •  •  • 

It  was  striking  half -past  four  as  I  got  back 
to  Ilgenstein. 

I  was  beastly  tired.  My  legs  were  hanging 
from  my  body  like  pieces  of  dead  wood. 
Everything  was  quiet,  as  I  had  sent  the  whole 
household  to  bed  before  going. 

Walking  along  the  corridor,  where  the  lights 
were  still  burning,  I  saw  a  door  decorated  with 
wreaths.  It  led  to  the  bridal  chamber  which 
my  sister  had  kept  locked  up  till  then  as  a 
surprise. 

Moved  by  curiosity  I  opened  the  door  and 
looked  in.  I  beheld  a  purple  sepulchral  vault, 
a  mixture  of  strange  scents  almost  choked  me. 
Everything  was  hung  with  curtains  and 
draperies,  and  from  the  ceiling  swung  a  real 
lighted  church  lamp.  In  the  background,  on 
a  raised  dais,  there  had  been  erected  a  sort  of 


108  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

catafalque  with  golden  ornaments  and  silken 
covers. 

It  was  there  that  I  should  have  had  to  sleep ! 

"B-r-r-r!"  I  said  and  shut  the  door  and  ran 
away  as  quickly  as  my  limping  legs  would 
carry  me. 

And  then  I  came  to  my  own  room  and  lit 
my  lovely  bright  students'  lamp.  It  smiled  at 
me  like  the  sun  itself. 

In  the  corner  stood  my  old  narrow  camp  bed 
with  its  red-stained  posts,  the  grey  straw  bag, 
and  the  worn  deerskin  robe. 

Well,  gentlemen,  you  can  imagine  how  de- 
licious I  felt. 

I  undressed,  lit  a  good  cigar,  jumped  into 
bed,  and  read  an  interesting  chapter  of  the 
history  of  the  Franco-Prussian  War. 

And  I  can  assure  you,  gentlemen,  that  I 
never  slept  more  soundly  than  on  my  bridal 
night. 


OH,  how  tired  I  am,  dear  lady!    I've 
been  writing  New  Year's  letters 
the  whole  day  and  have  disposed 
of  everything  that  has  gone  un- 
answered the  entire  year.     Goodness,  what 
ancient  debts  turned  up !    And  what  an  awful 
lazybones  I've  been!     The  number  of  good 
friends  that  I've  insulted  through  sheer  neg- 
lect,  the   number   of  little   thorns   I've   left 
sticking  in  people's  flesh!    But  enough  said. 

I  sent  out  New  Year's  cards,  too,  and  you 
will  also  receive  my  card  on  New  Year's  morn- 
ing with  a  stiff  "Many  wishes  for  a  Happy 
New  Year"  and  not  so  much  as  even  a  sugary 
little  verse  beside  the  1/1/86. 

Don't  laugh.  On  second  thought  1/1  is  a 
highly  significant  figure,  and  we  oughtn't  to 
make  fun  of  it  the  way  I  did.  The  day  it  des- 

109 


110  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

ignates  is  a  turning-point  for  people's  hearts. 
On  that  day  love  changes  its  residence.  Not 
always,  of  course.  Many  people  have  a  con- 
tract for  a  number  of  years,  for  life  even,  and 
it's  a  good  snug;  berth  that  love  falls  into  in 
homey  dwelling-places  like  that.  But  the 
giddy  creatures,  the  butterflies — if  one  may 
speak  of  butterflies  at  New  Year — the  ones 
that  have  been  evicted  and  all  the  others  who 
are  looking  for  new  quarters  either  out  of 
choice  or  out  of  necessity — you  see  them  pre- 
paring at  New  Year's  time  for  moving  in  or 
moving  out. 

Why  just  at  New  Year's  time,  you  ask? 

Another  season  has  begun,  new  relations  are 
entered  into,  new  intrigues  are  woven,  inclina- 
tions newly  awakened  crop  up  shyly  to  the 
surface.  Christmas  belonged  to  the  old  era 
still;  the  happiness  comfortably  enjoying  itself 
in  dressing-gown  and  slippers  still  held  sway 
over  the  discomforts  of  the  new  passion  knock- 
ing turbulently  at  the  door.  But  now,  at  New 
Year,  there's  a  general  clearing  out,  and  all 


WOMAN     WHO     WAS     HIS     FRIEND      111 

worn  love-goods  are  disposed  of  "previous  to 
removal,"  as  the  advertisements  read. 

The  heart's  change  of  residence  is  probably 
the  saddest  there  is.  Many  things  get  broken 
and  many  a  cherished  memento  falls  into  the 
gutter.  But  if  it  cannot  be  prevented,  then 
the  moving  may  as  well  be  done  thoroughly 
and  energetically. 

"Off  with  the  old  love  before  you're  on  with 
the  new." 

A  truth  of  startling  pregnancy.  Many  a 
person  has  arrived  too  late  because  he  lingered 
too  long  saying  good-bye.  Piles  of  novels 
could  be  written  on  this  subject. 

Sometimes,  too,  the  heart  stays  in  the  old 
house  but  moves  to  another  apartment.  Then 
hate  follows  love  and  love  follows  hate,  the  lat- 
ter, at  least,  in  Marlitt's  romances.  And  more 
than  this,  friendship  moves  in  where  love  once 
dwelt. 

And  then,  finally,  there  are  the  cases  in 
which  friendship  clears  the  way  for  love. 

You  shake  your  head.  You  believe  friend- 
ship never  clears  the  way  for  love?  You  mean 


112  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

because  we  two  friends  are  so  proof  against 
love?  Oh,  we  are  the  exception.  Between  us 
rises  the  intellectual  love  of  truth  like  a  crystal 
wall  in  the  Arctic  Ocean.  But  I  can  give  you 
examples,  my  dear  lady,  any  number  of  ex- 
amples, of  friendship  clearing  the  way  for  love. 
And  mostly  unhappy  examples. 

It  seems  to  be  an  iron  law  of  happiness  that 
love  should  begin  with  passion  and  end  in  the 
peace  of  tranquil  friendship — marriage,  I 
mean.  The  reverse  way  is  not  excluded,  but 
it  leads — to  the  desert. 

There  are  abstract  enthusiasts  that  construe 
the  marriage  of  souls  as  a  necessary  prelimi- 
nary to  physical  love.  But  nature  punishes 
lying.  When  friendship  between  a  man  and 
a  woman  ends  in  love,  either  the  friendship  or 
the  love  is  not  true.  And  woe,  woe  if  the 
friendship  has  not  been  friendship  but  love. 

Apropos  of  this — do  you  happen  to  remem- 
ber the  portrait  of  a  woman  that  created  such 
a  stir  at  the  exhibition  two  or  three  years  ago 
and  brought  the  painter  so  much  fame  and  so 
many  orders?  A  frail  figure,  almost  too  frail, 


WOMAN     WHO     WAS     HIS     FRIEND       113 

in  a  simple  black  velvet  dress.  A  thin  suffer- 
ing face,  a  pale  forehead  with  the  crown  on  it 
of  the  quiet  aristocracy  of  thought.  Half- 
closed  dreamy  eyes,  a  bluish  gleam  from  be- 
tween dark  lashes.  Upper  lip  covered  with 
fine  down  and  an  expression  of  longing  and 
smiling  melancholy  about  the  mouth.  Now  I 
remember  to  a  dot.  You  and  I  admired  the 
picture  together.  You  stood  studying  it  a  long 
time  and  then  said: 

"That's  the  way  I  fancy  Vittoria  Colonna 
must  have  looked." 

I  said  nothing  to  that.  I  was  astonished  by 
your  keenness,  because  there  really  were  many 
resemblances  of  character  between  the  lady  of 
the  portrait  and  Michael  Angelo's  unhappy 
friend.  Her  fate,  too,  was  curiously  like  Vit- 
toria Colonna's.  Of  course,  I  may  not  tell  how 
I  came  to  know  her  story.  At  that  time  it  was 
still  in  progress,  and  the  change  that  came 
later — well 

She  was  the  widow  of  a  well-known  archi- 
tect. His  house  was  a  social  centre  for  a 
swarm  of  talented  young  artists,  among  them 


114  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

K ,  the  painter  of  the  portrait.  He  was 

a  jolly  young  fellow,  easy-going  and  saucy. 
The  maelstrom  of  the  years  at  the  Academy 
had  not  destroyed  the  perfect  childlikeness  of 
his  genius,  and,  as  a  result,  the  air  of  being 
blase  and  weighted  with  the  woes  of  the  world 
that  he  put  on  in  deference  to  his  varied  ex- 
periences was  all  the  more  becoming  as  at  the 
slightest  provocation  he  dropped  this  manner 
and  burst  into  a  ringing  laugh. 

Hedwig  soon  realised  there  was  a  sound  core 
to  the  young  man's  rather  giddy  character,  and 
since  everybody  felt  that  his  talent  was  of  the 
first  order  and  only  needed  a  little  cultivation 
to  bear  glorious  fruit,  she  took  pleasure  in 
looking  out  for  him.  And  he,  for  his  part,  sur- 
rendered himself  ardently  to  the  guidance  of 
a  woman  a  few  years  older  than  himself,  a 
woman  whom  he  came  to  adore. 

He  brought  her  his  sketches,  and  she  passed 
upon  them,  with  a  sharp  eye  for  both  the 
painter's  sense  of  form  and  for  the  tiniest  slip 
of  his  still  uncertain  hand.  He  made  her  the 
confidante  of  his  creative  ideas,  which  gushed 


WOMAN     WHO     WAS     HIS     FRIEND      115 

from  his  brain  impetuously,  and  he  received 
them  back  from  her  matured  and  refined. 
There  was  not  a  corner  of  his  heart  that  did 
not  lie  open  to  her  view,  and  she  was  wise 
enough  even  to  place  the  right  estimate  upon 
the  youthful  coarseness  with  which  his  senti- 
ments sometimes  bubbled  over.  Another 
woman  might  have  felt  hurt,  while  she  took  it 
as  evidence  of  his  surplus  of  strength,  and 
smiled  and  gently  poked  fun  at  him,  and  so 
brought  harmony  out  of  the  chaos  within  him. 
She  showered  riches  on  him,  and  what  she 
got  back  in  return  was  scarcely  less  in  value. 
Held  fast  at  the  side  of  an  ill-tempered  aging 
husband,  an  ailing  woman  herself  and  growing 
weaker  from  year  to  year,  she  had  matured 
in  mind  at  an  early  age ;  and  she  had  paid  toll 
in  the  loss  of  youthful  spirits  and  elasticity. 
But  now  whole  streams  of  a  fresh  blithe  life 
poured  out  of  him  into  her.  She  felt  rejuve- 
nated in  his  presence.  And  a  tender  motherli- 
ness,  the  shadow  of  a  joy  that  had  been  denied 
her,  was  interwoven  with  her  other  feelings 
for  him. 


116  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

Her  husband  was  glad  to  see  his  lonely  wife 
occupied  and  did  not  interfere.  And  why 
should  he  have  interfered?  Never  was  there 
less  occasion  for  jealousy.  The  young  scape- 
grace, as  a  matter  of  fact,  even  confided  his 
love  affairs  to  her,  and  she  tried  by  smiling 
advice  to  render  them  at  least  innocuous 
enough  not  to  hamper  the  development  of  his 
talent. 

Three  years  passed.  Hedwig's  husband 
died.  Her  illness  had  grown  worse,  and  at  the 
physician's  advice  she  went  south,  to  Nice. 

She  lived  in  great  retirement,  broken  into 
only  now  and  then,  when  a  young  genius  long 
of  hair  and  none  too  clean  of  shirt  turned  up 
in  her  modest  drawing-room,  generally  in 
money  difficulties  and  bringing  a  letter  of  rec- 
ommendation from  her  friend. 

Her  one  diversion  was  corresponding  with 

K ,  whose  work  and  position  kept  him  in 

Berlin. 

He  often  wrote  her  that  he  adored  her  like 
a  saint. 

She,  for  her  part,  parried  his  onslaughts  of 


WOMAN     WHO     WAS     HIS     FRIEND      117 

ecstasy  and  was  satisfied  that  in  spite  of  his 
volatile  nature  and  his  growing  fame,  he  pre- 
served his  old  liking  for  her. 

Three  years  more  passed.  Then,  once,  late 
in  autumn  he  suddenly  appeared  at  Nice,  tired, 
worn  out  by  work,  spiritually  desolate,  un- 
steadier  than  ever,  but — a  full-grown  man. 

"I  have  come  to  be  cured  by  you,"  he  ex- 
claimed the  first  time  he  was  in  her  house. 

She  wept  for  joy. 

Soon  they  dropped  into  greater  intimacy 
than  ever,  and  yet  she  sometimes  experienced 
a  sense  of  shyness  which  she  had  not  felt  be- 
fore in  her  relation  with  him,  for  the  very  rea- 
son that  he  was  no  longer  the  boy  she  could 
look  down  on  with  unconstrained  motherli- 
ness.  The  difference  in  years  seemed  to  have 
been  wiped  out,  inwardly  as  well  as  outwardly, 
and  he  had  grown  close  to  her  intellectually, 
alarmingly  close. 

He  often  complained  to  her  of  his  afflictions 
— the  miserable  headaches  that  kept  bothering 
him,  the  result  of  overwork,  and  then  the  wor- 
ries of  his  profession,  the  disillusionments. 


118  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

They  were  by  no  means  formidable,  but  easily 
too  much  for  the  spoiled  darling  of  fortune. 
She  devoured  everything  he  said.  The  least 
little  thing  of  concern  to  him  assumed  pro- 
digious importance. 

But  there  seemed  to  be  a  good  deal  that  he 
did  not  tell  her. 

"And  how  about  the  women?"  she  asked, 
smiling,  though  tortured  by  suddenly  rising 
jealousy. 

"Oh,  let's  not  talk  of  the  women.  I've  for- 
gotten every  one  of  them.  Now  you  are  my 
one  and  only  one." 

She  thrilled,  but  said  nothing.  Oh,  had  he 
known  how  her  whole  being  lost  itself  in  his! 

These  words  of  his  caressed  her  from  now 
on,  echoing  even  in  her  sleep  at  night. 

They  celebrated  Christmas  together. 

When  the  candles  were  burning  on  the  tree 
and  the  homelike  scent  of  pine  and  apples 
filled  the  room,  he  caught  her  hands,  looked 
long  into  her  eyes  smiling,  and  said: 

"You  know,  you  and  I  ought  really  to 
marry." 


WOMAN     WHO     WAS     HIS    FRIEND      119 

She  felt  her  blood  bounding  hot  through  her 
veins,  but  she  held  on  to  herself,  and  burst  out 
laughing. 

"You  think  I'm  joking,"  he  went  on.  "No, 
no,  I'm  not.  I  am  in  deep  earnest.  You  your- 
self tell  me — we're  each  of  us  alone,  we  don't 
care  about  the  world,  we  have  come  to  under- 
stand each  other  as  no  other  two  people  on 
earth  have  ever  understood  each  other.  Why 
should  we  not  share  our  fate  the  rest  of  our 
lives?" 

"Now  do  be  sensible,"  she  said,  trying  to 
keep  up  a  show  of  lightness,  "and  don't  talk 
such  nonsense  any  more;  for  nonsense  it  is, 
whether  said  in  fun  or  in  deep  earnest.  Ex- 
actly what  you  need — a  woman  hanging  round 
your  neck  who  is  five  years  older  than  you 
and  soon  will  be  altogether  faded.  Besides, 
you  don't  strike  me  as  having  been  born  to  be 
a  nurse,  and  you  know  I  am  slowly  making 
my  way  graveward.  So  the  matter's  settled." 

That  night  she  cried  to  herself. 

The  next  day  his  headache  bothered  him 
worse  than  ever.  With  her  he  was  privileged 


120  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

to  make  himself  comfortable,  and  he  stretched 
out  on  the  sofa,  and  she  adjusted  the  cushions 
under  his  head. 

"Your  hands  are  always  so  cool,"  he  said. 
"In  the  days  of  old  you  sometimes  used  to 
stroke  my  forehead  so  soothingly.  It  did  me 
no  end  of  good.  I  have  spoiled  my  chance  for 
that  form  of  happiness,  too." 

She  passed  her  shaking  hand  over  his  head 
and  brow,  and  when  she  touched  his  cheek, 
he  caught  her  fingers  in  both  his  hands. 

"Let  them  stay  there,"  he  said  with  a  great 
sigh.  "My  cheeks  are  on  fire." 

Her  cheeks  were  burning,  too. 

Christmas  week  went  by,  and  the  man  and 
the  woman  drew  still  closer  together  in  the  soli- 
tude of  their  hearts.  New  Year's  eve  came, 
and  they  decided  to  wait  up  and  greet  the  new 
year  together. 

Hedwig  was  preparing  the  tea,  and  he  was 
leaning  back  in  an  easy  chair,  smoking  cig- 
arettes and  looking  through  the  blue  clouds  at 
her  housewifely  ways.  There  was  a  rosy  sheen 


WOMAN     WHO     WAS     HIS     FRIEND       121 

on  her  cheeks  and  something  like  the  promise 
of  happiness  glittering  in  her  eyes. 

He  felt  so  happy  and  yet  so  oppressed  that 
he  wanted  to  jump  up  and  clasp  her  in  his 
arms  simply  to  lift  the  burden  from  his  soul. 

.  She  spoke  little.  She  seemed  occupied  with 
her  own  thoughts,  and  he  with  his. 

At  about  eleven  o'clock  there  was  a  noise 
on  the  street,  and  the  red  glow  of  smoking 
torches  came  through  the  window.  It  was  a 
procession  of  masqueraders  got  up  by  a  pri- 
vate society,  a  foretaste  of  the  public  carnival 
to  follow. 

She  opened  the  French  window  and  they 
went  out  on  the  balcony,  on  which  potted 
pomegranate-trees  were  in  full  bloom.  It  was 
a  soft  warm  night,  like  our  own  nights  in 
spring.  The  stars  were  sparkling,  and  a  vague 
shimmer  lay  upon  the  ocean. 

As  the  giddy  throng  flowed  past  below  them 
whistling  and  hooting  and  laughing,  he  felt 
her  arm  laid  on  his  almost  anxiously. 

"Aren't  we  standing  here  as  on  an  isolated 
rock  in  mid-ocean?"  he  whispered. 


122  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

She  nodded  and  pressed  herself  against  him 
softly. 

"And  yet  have  to  remain  strangers,"  he 
went  on. 

She  made  no  reply,  and  lowered  her  head  to 
dip  it  into  the  mass  of  blossoms.  He  felt  the 
quivering  of  her  body. 

"Hedwig,"  he  said  softly. 

She  shrank.  It  was  the  first  time  he  had 
ever  called  her  by  her  first  name. 

"Hedwig." 

"What  is  it?" 

"Hedwig,  my  heart's  so  full.  I  must  thank 
you.  I  must  tell  you  loving  things.  What 
would  I  be  without  you?  Whatever  I  am  I 
owe  to  you.  Hedwig,  I  can't  bear  any  longer 
to  be  standing  beside  you  so  stiff  and  so  cold 
while  my  heart  is  throbbing.  I  must  get  some 
air — I  must  tell  you " 

"Oh,  God !"  she  breathed,  clapping  her  hands 
to  her  face  and  rushing  back  into  the  room, 
where  she  dropped  down  on  a  settee. 

He  followed  her  and  caught  both  her  hands. 

She  was  panting. 


WOMAN     WHO     WAS     HIS     FRIEND       123 

"Let  us  talk  sensibly,"  she  said,  making  an 
effort  to  sit  up  erect.  "Sit  down — there— and 
listen  to  me."  He  obeyed  mechanically.  "Why 
can't  things  stay  the  same  as  they  always  have 
been  between  us?  Wasn't  it  lovely?  Didn't 
we  use  to  enjoy  each  other?  And  now  sud- 
denly something  has  seethed  up  in  us  that 
makes  us  ungrateful  for  all  the  happiness  we 
had.  We  mustn't  give  in.  It  would  plunge 
us — me,  at  least — into  unhappiness.  You  see, 
a  few  days  ago  you  told  me  I  was  your  one  and 
only  one.  I  feel  that  in  a  certain  sense  I  really 
am,  and  that  makes  me  proud  and  happy.  But 
the  moment  we  want  to  reap  love  where  we 
sowed  friendship,  the  magic  departs  that  held 
us  in  its  spell  for  so  long.  Until  then  I  shall 
have  been  your  one  and  only  one.  Afterward 
I  shall  be — one  more." 

He  started. 

"What  an  ugly  notion!"  he  said  dully. 

"Ugly,  perhaps,  but  all  the  truer,"  she  re- 
plied, plucking  at  the  tablecloth  with  palsied 
fingers.  "We  must  not  surrender  to  self-de- 
ception. This  moment  determines  our  future. 


124  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

It  lies  within  our  power  to  decide  which  way 
we  shall  go.  You  know  that — I — love  you — 
and  that — I  am  lonely.  So  have  pity  on  me. 
Spare  me  suffering.  I  should  like  to  mean  as 
much  in  your  life  as  I  always  have." 

"You  are  to  mean  more  in  my  life,  not  less!" 
he  cried,  putting  his  hands  to  his  forehead. 
"I  want  to  devote  myself  to  you  altogether, 
with  all  my  body,  all  my  soul,  and  all  my  art. 
I  want  to  have  peace — peace  from  the  world 
without  and  peace  from  the  passions  within. 
And  where  could  I  be  surer  of  finding  peace 
than  with  you?" 

She  drew  a  deep  sigh,  as  if  in  awakening 
hope,  and  her  gaze  hung  on  his  ardently. 

At  that  instant  the  hands  of  the  clock  were 
close  on  twelve. 

"A  few  moments,"  he  said,  "and  the  year 
will  be  over — a  new  one  will  be  coming.  Shall 
it  forever  remain  the  same  for  me,  always  doing 
futile  empty  things?  And  shall  it  always  re- 
main the  same  for  you,  always  living  in  sad- 
ness and  loneliness?  Ahead  of  us  is  darkness, 


WOMAN     WHO     WAS     HIS     FRIEND       125 

and,  crouching  in  the  darkness  like  a  hungry 
beast,  is  the  grave." 

She  shuddered. 

"Soon  it  will  have  us  in  its  clutches  at  any 
rate.  Why  should  we  doubt  and  hesitate? 
It's  all  the  same  whatever  we  do.  In  the  back- 
ground stands  Nothing.  So  let  us  be  happy  as 
long  as  there  is  still  intoxication  in  life." 

The  clock  struck  twelve. 

Each  stroke  was  like  the  flapping  of  wings 
of  some  lonely  straying  soul. 

With  a  sob  she  fell  on  his  breast. 

•  •  •  •  • 

At  the  same  time  a  year  later  Hedwig  was 
sitting  in  the  same  room — but  alone.  He  had 
meant  to  be  there  by  Christmas,  but  then  had 
postponed  his  coming  until  New  Year,  and  by 
New  Year's  eve  he  had  not  yet  arrived.  In- 
stead a  letter  had  come.  She  had  been  reading 
it  over  and  over  again  for  hours. 

She  had  aged  greatly  and  bore  the  marks  of 
intense  suffering.  A  hard  bitter  smile  hov- 
ered about  her  lips.  Her  cheeks  were  aflame 
with  the  fires  of  death,  while  she  stared  at  the 


126  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

phrases  in  the  letter,  forced  hollow  phrases  of 
tenderness,  forced  because  he  was  embarrassed. 
She  sank  down  in  front  of  the  settee  on  the 
same  spot  on  which  he  had  kneeled  a  year  be- 
fore, a  woman  tortured  and  humbled  to  death ; 
and  hiding  her  face  in  the  cushions,  she  mur- 
mured: 

"One  more!" 

•  •  •  •  • 

Dear  lady,  why  are  you  looking  at  me  so 
mournfully?  What's  the  story  to  us? 

In  the  first  place  I  am  not  a  genius;  sec- 
ondly, you  haven't  got  the  talent  for  being  de- 
serted, and,  thirdly,  we  shall  stay  the  same 
good  old  friends  we've  always  been  even  after 
New  Year. 


THE  NEW  YEAR'S  EVE 
CONFESSION 

AH,  dear  lady,  it's  good  to  be  here 
with  you  again,   sitting  so  peace- 
fully   in    this    comfortable    chair, 
ready    for    a    cosy    chat.      Thank 
goodness,  the  holiday  hubbub  is  over  and  done 
with  and  you  have  a  little  leisure  for  me  again. 
Oh,  the  Christmas  season!    I  do  believe  it 
was  invented  by  the  devil  especially  for  the 
annoyance  of  us  bachelors,  to  impress  upon 
us  the  dreariness  of  our  homeless  lives.     The 
thing  that  is  a  source  of  delight  to  others  is  a 
torture  to  us.    Of  course,  of  course,  we're  not 
all  of  us  lonely.     The  joy  of  bestowing  joy 
blooms  for  most  of  us,  too.    But  the  pure  pleas- 
ure of  sharing  pleasure  with  others  is  embit- 
tered partly  by  a  dose  of  ironical  self-criticism, 
partly  by  that  acid  yearning  which  I  might 
call,   instead  of  homesickness,  marriagesick- 
ness. 

127 


128  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

Why  did  I  not  come  and  pour  my  heart  out 
to  you?  you  ask,  you  sympathetic  soul,  who 
bestow  consolation  as  generously  as  most  of 
your  sex  bestow  petty  spite.  Ah,  but  you  see, 
the  matter  is  not  so  simple.  Don't  you  know 
what  Speidel  says  in  his  charmingly  chatty 
"Lonely  Sparrows,"  which  you,  correctly  di- 
vining the  state  of  my  soul,  sent  me  on  the 
third  day  of  the  holiday?  He  says,  "The  gen- 
uine bachelor  does  not  want  to  be  consoled. 
Once  having  become  unhappy,  he  wants  to  in- 
dulge his  unhappiness." 

Beside  Speidel's  lonely  sparrow,  there  is 
also  a  species  of  confirmed  old  bachelors, 
family  friends.  I  do  not  mean  those  profes- 
sional destroyers  of  the  family  who  insinuate 
themselves  hypocritically  with  evil  intent  while 
making  themselves  comfortable  at  the  hospit- 
able hearth.  I  mean  the  good  old  uncle,  papa's 
whilom  schoolmate,  who  dandles  baby  on  his 
knees  while  respectably  reading  aloud  to 
mamma  the  story  in  the  evening  paper  with 
omission  of  the  indecent  passages. 

I  know  men  whose  whole  life  goes  in  the 


NEW   YEAR'S   EVE   CONFESSION     129 

service  of  a  family  with  which  they  have  be- 
come friendly,  men  who  pass  their  days  with- 
out desire  beside  a  lovely  woman  whom  they 
secretly  adore. 

You  are  sceptical?  Oh,  it  is  the  "without 
desire"  that  you  object  to?  You  may  be  right. 
In  the  depths  of  even  the  tamest  heart  there 
probably  lurks  a  wild  desire,  but  a  desire — it 
is  understood — that  is  held  in  check. 

I  should  like  to  give  you  an  example  and 
tell  you  of  a  conversation  that  two  ancient 
gentlemen  had  with  each  other  this  very  New 
Year's  eve.  You  must  not  ask  me  how  I  found 
out  about  the  conversation,  and  you  must  not 
tell  it  to  any  one  else.  May  I  begin? 

Picture,  as  the  scene,  a  high-ceilinged  room 
furnished  in  an  old-fashioned  style  and  dimly 
lighted  by  a  green-shaded,  brightly  polished 
hanging  lamp,  such  as  our  parents  used  be- 
fore the  era  of  kerosene ;  the  light  falling  upon 
a  round  table  covered  with  a  white  cloth  and 
set  with  the  ingredients  for  mixing  a  New 
Year's  punch,  and  in  the  centre  a  few  drip- 
pings of  oil  spreading  slowly. 


130  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

My  two  ancient  gentlemen  sat  half  in  the 
dimness  cast  by  the  green  shade.  Mouldy 
ruins  they  were  of  a  time  long  past,  each  trem- 
ulously sunk  in  himself  and  each  staring  into 
space  with  the  dim  eyes  and  the  dull  look  of 
old  age.  The  one,  the  host,  was  a  military 
man,  as  was  clear  at  first  glance  from  his  close- 
fitting  stock,  his  pointed  moustache,  shaved 
off  under  the  points,  and  his  eyebrows  knitted 
in  a  martial  frown.  He  sat  huddled  in  a  roll- 
ing chair  and  clutched  the  handle  of  the  steer- 
ing rod  with  both  hands  like  a  crooked  walk- 
ing-stick. Nothing  about  him  stirred  except 
his  lower  jaw,  which  went  up  and  down  inces- 
santly with  a  chewing  movement.  The  other, 
who  was  sitting  beside  him  on  the  sofa,  was 
tall  and  thin,  with  narrow  shoulders  and  the 
head  of  a  thinker,  angular  and  broad  of  brow. 
He  drew  skimpy  clouds  of  smoke  from  a  long 
pipe  that  was  about  to  go  out.  Snowy  white 
curls  framed  his  face,  and  in  the  thousand  fine 
lines  of  his  smooth,  dried -up  skin  nestled  a 
soft,  quiet  smile,  such  as  nothing  but  the  peace 


NEW   YEAR'S   EVE   CONFESSION     131 

of  renunciation  can  impress  upon  an  aged 
countenance. 

They  sat  without  talking.  In  the  silence  you 
could  hear  the  slight  bubbling  of  the  burning 
oil  mingled  with  the  slight  bubbling  of  the  to- 
bacco juice.  Then  the  clock  on  the  wall  in  the 
dark  background  wheezed  and  struck  eleven. 

"This  is  about  the  time  you  usually  brew 
the  punch,"  said  the  man  with  the  thinker's 
head.  His  voice  sounded  soft  and  quavered 
a  little. 

"Yes,  this  is  the  time,"  the  other  rejoined. 
His  tone  was  harsh,  as  if  again  resounding 
with  the  strident  shouts  of  command. 

"I  should  never  have  thought,"  the  guest 
continued,  "that  it  would  be  so  sad  without 
her." 

The  host  nodded  and  chewed  on. 

"She  made  the  New  Year's  punch  for  us 
forty-four  times." 

"Yes,"  the  old  soldier  put  in,  "ever  since  I 
have  been  living  here  in  Berlin  and  you  have 

been  coming  to  see  us." 

"Last  year  at  this  time,"  the  guest  con- 


132  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

tinued,  "we  three  were  still  together,  so  hap- 
pily. She  sat  there  in  the  easy  chair,  knitting 
socks  for  Paul's  oldest  child,  and  hurrying  as 
fast  as  she  could.  They  had  to  be  finished  by 
twelve  o'clock,  she  said.  And  they  were.  Then 
we  drank  the  punch  and  very  comfortably  dis- 
cussed death.  And  two  months  later  she  ac- 
tually was  carried  out  to  the  cemetery.  You 
know  I  wrote  a  thick  volume  on  the  immortal- 
ity of  the  idea.  You  never  could  bear  it.  I 
cannot  bear  it  any  more  either  since  your  wife 
died.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  don't  give  a  fig 
for  any  philosophic  ideas  any  more." 

"Yes,  she  was  a  good  woman,"  said  the  hus- 
band of  the  deceased.  "She  took  good  care  of 
me.  When  I  had  to  be  out  for  service  by  five 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  she  was  always  up 
ahead  of  me  and  saw  to  it  that  I  had  a  good 
cup  of  coffee  before  I  left.  To  be  sure,  she 
had  her  faults,  too.  When  once  she  got  to 
philosophising  with  you — whewl" 

"You  simply  never  understood  her,"  mur- 
mured the  guest,  something  like  restrained  re- 
sentment quivering  about  the  corners  of  his 


NEW     YEAB/S    EVE     CONFESSION       133 

mouth,  though  the  look  he  allowed  to  rest  on  his 
friend  a  long  time  was  mild  and  sad,  as  though 
his  soul  carried  the  secret  consciousness  of 
guilt. 

After  a  period  of  silence,  he  began: 

"Listen,  Franz,  I  must  tell  you  something 
— something  that  has  been  gnawing  at  me  a 
long  while.  I  cannot  possibly  go  down  into  the 
grave  carrying  it  along  with  me." 

"Fire  away,  then,"  said  Franz,  and  picked 
up  the  long  pipe  leaning  against  his  rolling 
chair. 

"Once  something — happened  between — me 
and  your  wife." 

"Please  don't  joke,  Doc,"  said  Franz. 

"I'm  in  grim  earnest,  Franz.  I  have  been 
carrying  it  round  with  me  for  more  than  forty 
years,  and  now  the  time  has  come  at  last  to 
make  a  clean  breast  of  it." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  my  wife  deceived  me?" 
the  old  soldier  shouted  in  a  rage. 

"Shame  on  you,  Franz,"  said  the  philoso- 
pher, with  his  sad,  mild  smile. 


134  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

Franz  mumbled  and  muttered  a  little  and 
then  lighted  his  pipe. 

"No,  she  was  pure  as  an  angel,"  the  philos- 
opher went  on.  "You  and  I  are  the  criminals. 
Listen  to  me.  It  was  forty-three  years  ago. 
You  had  just  been  ordered  to  Berlin  as  a  cap- 
tain, and  I  was  teaching  at  the  University. 
You  know  what  a  wild  fellow  you  were  then." 

"Hm,"  said  Franz,  and  raised  his  shaking 
hand  to  twist  the  points  of  his  moustache. 

"There  was  a  beautiful  actress  with  big 
black  eyes  and  small  white  teeth.  Do  you  re- 
member?" 

"Do  I  remember!  Bianca  was  her  name." 
A  feeble  smile  flitted  across  the  old  man's 
weatherbeaten  countenance  with  the  marks  on 
it  of  hard  and  fast  living.  "She  could  bite,  I 
tell  you,  she  could  bite!" 

"You  deceived  your  wife,  and  she  suspected 
it.  But  she  never  said  anything,  and  suffered 
in  silence.  You  did  not  notice  it,  but  I  did. 
She  was  the  first  woman  I  got  to  know  after 
my  mother's  death.  She  came  into  my  life  like 
a  shining  star,  and  I  looked  up  to  her  as  to  a 


NEW   YEAR'S   EVE   CONFESSION     135 

shining  star.  Finally  I  summoned  up  the 
courage  to  ask  her  what  was  troubling  her. 
She  smiled  and  said  she  was  not  feeling  quite 
well  yet.  You  remember,  it  was  only  a  short 
while  before  that  Paul  had  been  born.  Then 
came  New  Year's  eve — exactly  forty-three 
years  ago  this  very  night.  I  came  to  your 
house  at  about  eight  o'clock,  as  usual.  She 
sat  embroidering,  and  I  read  to  her  while  we 
waited  for  you.  The  hours  passed,  one  by  one. 
You  did  not  come.  I  saw  how  uneasy  she  be- 
came and  how  she  began  to  tremble,  and  I 
trembled  with  her.  I  knew  what  was  keeping 
you,  and  I  was  afraid  that  you  would  forget 
twelve  o'clock  in  that  woman's  arms.  It  was 
getting  very  near  the  hour.  She  stopped  em- 
broidering, and  I  stopped  reading,  and  an  aw- 
ful silence  descended  on  us.  I  saw  a  tear  creep 
out  slowly  from  between  her  lashes  and  fall 
down  on  her  embroidery.  I  jumped  up  and 
wanted  to  go  out  and  bring  you  home.  I  felt 
capable  of  tearing  you  by  force  from  that 
woman's  side.  But  at  the  same  instant  your 


136  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

wife  jumped  up,  too,  from  this  very  seat  I  am 
sitting  on. 

'Where  are  you  going?'  she  cried.    There 
was  unspeakable  dread  in  her  face. 

'  'I  am  going  to  get  Franz,'  I  said. 

"At  that  she  fairly  screamed. 

"  'For  goodness  sake,  stay  with  me.  At 
least  you  stay  with  me.  Don't  you  leave  me.' 

"And  she  threw  herself  on  me  and  laid  her 
hands  on  my  shoulders  and  hid  her  wet  face 
on  my  chest.  My  whole  body  quivered.  Never 
before  had  a  woman  been  so  close  to  me.  But 
I  held  on  to  myself  and  spoke  to  her  comfort- 
ingly. She  so  needed  comforting.  Soon  after, 
you  came  back.  You  did  not  notice  my  con- 
fusion. Your  cheeks  were  flushed  and  there 
was  a  love-drunken  weariness  in  your  eyes. 

"That  New  Year's  eve  produced  a  change  in 
me,  which  filled  me  with  alarm.  Since  I  had 
felt  her  soft  arms  around  my  neck  and  had 
drawn  in  the  perfume  of  her  hair,  the  star  had 
fallen  from  heaven,  and  instead  of  the  star  it 
was  the  woman,  the  woman,  beautiful,  and 
breathing  love.  I  knew  there  was  ardour  in 


NEW   YEAR'S   EVE   CONFESSION     137 

my  glances,  and  I  denounced  myself  as  a 
blackguard,  a  deceiver,  and  to  make  at  least 
partial  atonement  to  my  conscience,  I  went  to 
work  to  separate  you  from  your  mistress.  For- 
tunately I  had  some  money,  which  I  had  in- 
herited, and  she  was  satisfied  with  the  sum  I 
offered  her,  and " 

"By  Jingo,"  the  old  soldier  interjected,  "so 
you're  the  one  to  blame  for  Bianca's  writing 
me  that  touching  good-bye  letter  in  which  she 
told  me  it  was  with  a  breaking  heart  that  she 
had  to  forego  my  love?" 

"Yes,  I  am  the  one  to  blame  for  it.  But 
listen.  I  had  expected  to  purchase  peace  with 
the  money  I  gave  her.  I  was  mistaken.  The 
wild  thoughts  kept  going  round  and  round  in 
my  brain  worse  and  worse.  I  buried  myself 
in  my  work.  It  was  just  then  that  I  conceived 
the  central  thought  for  my  'Immortality  of  the 
Idea.'  No  use.  Peace  did  not  come  that 
way. 

"And  so  a  whole  year  went  by,  and  another 
New  Year's  eve  arrived.  I  was  sitting  beside 
her  on  this  seat  once  again.  This  time  you 


138  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

were  at  home,  but  you  were  lying  asleep  on  the 
sofa  in  the  next  room,  tired  out  by  a  jollifi- 
cation at  the  club.  Sitting  there,  close  beside 
her,  looking  at  her  pale  face,  the  recollection 
of  the  New  Year's  eve  before  came  back  and 
overwhelmed  me  irresistibly.  Just  to  feel  her 
head  at  my  neck  once  again,  just  to  kiss  her 
once  again,  and  then  let  come  what  may !  Our 
glances  met  for  an  instant.  It  seemed  to  me 
that  a  secret  understanding  flashed  into  her 
eyes.  I  could  not  control  myself  any  longer. 
I  dropped  at  her  feet  and  hid  my  burning  face 
in  her  lap. 

"I  lay  there  like  that,  motionless,  for  pos- 
sibly two  seconds,  when  I  felt  her  hand  cool 
on  my  head  and  heard  her  say  softly  and 
gently: 

'You  must  be  good.' 

"Yes,  I  must  be  good.  I  must  not  deceive 
the  man  sleeping  in  the  next  room  so  trust- 
fully. I  jumped  up  and  looked  about,  discon- 
certed. She  picked  up  a  book  from  the  table 
and  handed  it  to  me.  I  knew  what  she  meant 
and  opened  the  book  at  random  and  started  to 


NEW     YEAR/S     EVE     CONFESSION       139 

read  aloud.  I  do  not  know  what  I  read.  The 
letters  danced  before  my  eyes.  But  gradually 
the  storm  in  my  soul  subsided,  and  when  it 
struck  twelve  and  you,  with  a  sleepy  look  in 
your  eyes,  came  in  to  wish  us  a  Happy  New 
Year,  I  felt  as  though  that  instant  of  sin  lay 
far,  far  behind  me,  in  an  era  long  past. 

"From  that  time  on  I  became  calmer.  I 
knew  she  did  not  return  my  love  and  I  had 
nothing  to  hope  for  from  her  but  compassion. 
The  years  went  by.  Your  children  grew  up 
and  married.  We  three  grew  old.  You  .gave 
up  sowing  wild  oats  and  lived  for  only  the  one 
woman,  like  myself.  I  did  not  stop  loving 
her.  No,  that  was  impossible.  But  my  love 
took  on  other  forms.  It  discarded  earthly  de- 
sires and  turned  into  a  spiritual  communion. 
You  often  used  to  laugh  when  you  heard  us 
philosophising.  But  had  you  divined  how  my 
soul  became  one  with  hers,  it  would  have  made 
you  very  jealous.  And  now  she's  dead.  Per- 
haps by  next  New  Year's  eve  we  shall  have 
followed  her.  That  is  why  it  is  high  time  for 
me  to  unburden  myself  of  my  secret  and  say 


140  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

to  you,  'Franz,  I  once  did  you  a  wrong.  For- 
give me!' ' 

He  held  out  his  hand  to  his  friend  plead- 
ingly, but  Franz  answered  testily: 

"Bah,  stuff  and  nonsense!  A  lot  to  for- 
give! This  news  of  yours,  this  confession,  is 
stale.  I've  known  it  for  ages.  She  herself 
told  me  all  about  it  forty  years  ago.  And  now 
I'll  tell  you  the  reason  I  ran  after  women  the 
way  I  did  until  I  was  an  old  man — because, 
when  she  told  me,  she  also  said  that  you  were 
the  only  man  she  had  ever  loved." 

His  guest  stared  at  him  in  silence.  The 
clock  on  the  wall  wheezed  and  struck  twelve 
o'clock. 


THE  GOOSE  HERD 

MY  dear  man,  I've  been  listening  to 
you  now  for  a  long  while  and  you 
fill  me  with  astonishment.     You 
usually   show — more   than    I    do 
myself — an  honest  wish  to  take  things  as  they 
are.    Then  whence  all  of  a  sudden,  in  making 
these  nice  observations  of  human  emotions,  do 
you  draw  this  idealistic  illusion  of  yours? 

It  seems  to  me  your  levelling-down  demo- 
cratic sentiment  has  been  playing  you  a 
naughty  trick  again.  You  maintain,  if  I  un- 
derstand you  correctly,  that  there  is  not  a  pro- 
found difference  in  the  way  the  various  social 
classes  feel  and  express  their  feelings;  while, 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  life  proves  the  very  re- 
verse every  day.  Oh,  it  would  be  beautiful  as 
a  dream  if  you  were  right.  The  ideals  of 
brotherhood  and  equality  that  I,  the  bred-in- 
the-bone  aristocrat — that  is  what  you  say  I 
am — must  necessarily  consider  mere  figments 

141 


142  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

of  the  brain,  would  then  be  reality,  or,  rather, 
have  already  become  reality;  because  the  bit 
of  knowledge  more  or  less  cannot  possibly 
produce  an  organic  difference  in  men's 
natures. 

No,  no,  dear  sir,  it  is  the  cleavage  in  the  way 
they  feel,  more  than  all  differences  in  wealth, 
rank,  and  learning,  that  separates  the  upper 
from  the  lower  classes;  so  much  so  that  they 
go  through  the  world  together  each  without 
comprehension  of  what  the  other  does,  like 
citizens  of  different  globes.  Woe  to  him  who 
hopes  to  leap  the  gap! 

You  don't  believe  me?  You  shake  your 
head?  Oh,  my  dear  man,  I  am  speaking  from 
experience.  Alas,  alas !  If  I  could  tell  you — 
but  why  shouldn't  I  ?  Night  is  falling  outside, 
the  November  storm  is  howling,  and  to-day  I 
celebrated  the  advent  of  my  thirtieth  grey  hair 
— quite  the  atmosphere  for  conjuring  up  a  pic- 
ture of  light,  spring  and  youth. 

Let  me  close  my  eyes,  and  you  listen  to  me 
like  a  good  little  boy.  I  want  to  tell  you  of 
my  first  love.  Do  you  know  who  my  first  love 


THE     GOOSE     HERD  143 

was  ?  A  goose-herd,  a  real,  out-and-out  goose- 
herd.  I  am  not  joking.  I  have  wept  bitter 
tears  over  the  wrong  he  did  me,  and  that  when 
I  had  long  been  a  grown-up,  highly  respectable 
young  lady. 

To  be  sure,  when  he  first  set  my  heart  afire, 
I  was  still  of  the  age  when  my  highest  ideal 
of  happiness  was  to  go  barefoot.  I  was  eight 
years  old,  he  ten.  I  was  the  daughter  of  the 
lord  of  the  castle,  he,  the  son  of  our  smith. 

Mornings,  when  I  took  breakfast  on  the  ve- 
randah with  my  mother  and  big  brother,  he 
used  to  pass  by  with  his  geese  and  disappear  in 
the  direction  of  the  pasture.  At  first  he  stared 
up  at  us  with  naive  astonishment,  it  never  oc- 
curring to  him  to  raise  his  cap.  Then  my 
brother  impressed  it  upon  him  that  it  was 
proper  to  give  the  family  a  decent  greeting, 
and  from  that  time  on  he  always  called  up  a 
"Good  mornin'  to  you"  like  a  lesson  learned 
by  heart  and  with  a  long  sweep  of  his  cap. 

If  my  brother  happened  to  be  in  a  good 
humour,  I  received  permission  to  take  a  roll 
down  to  him,  and  he  always  snatched  it  out 


144  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

of  my  hand  with  a  certain  greedy  anxiety,  as 
if  there  were  danger  of  my  withdrawing  it  at 
the  last  moment. 

What  did  he  look  like?  I  can  still  see  him 
as  if  he  were  right  there  in  front  of  me.  His 
straight  flaxen  hair  hung  down  over  his  sun- 
burned cheeks  like  a  thatched  roof,  with  his 
blue  eyes  peering  from  underneath,  jolly  and 
cunning.  He  wore  his  ragged  trousers  rolled 
up  over  his  knees,  and  always  carried  an  osier 
switch,  into  which,  along  the  green  bark,  he 
had  cleverly  cut  white  spirals. 

It  was  upon  this  switch  that  my  childish 
covetousness  first  fastened  itself.  How  fasci- 
nating to  hold  in  my  hand  a  marvellous  piece 
of  work  like  that,  so  different  from  all  my  toys ! 
And  when  I  pictured  to  myself  being  allowed 
to  chase  geese  with  it  and  to  go  barefoot,  the 
pinnacle  of  earthly  happiness  had  been  reached. 

And  it  was  this  same  switch  that  brought 
us  into  human  contact.  One  morning  at  break- 
fast, as  I  saw  him  going  by  so  cheerily,  I  could 
no  longer  restrain  my  desire.  I  furtively  put 
together  the  pieces  of  the  roll  spread  with 


THE     GOOSE     HERD  145 

honey  that  I  was  eating  and  asked  hurriedly 
to  be  excused,  and  ran  after  him. 

When  he  saw  me  coming,  he  stopped  and 
looked  at  me  wonderingly.  But  as  soon  as  he 
caught  sight  of  the  roll  in  my  hand,  a  gleam 
of  comprehension  shot  into  his  eyes. 

"Will  you  give  me  your  switch?"  I  asked. 

"Why?"  he  asked  back,  and  put  one  foot 
up  to  rub  the  calf  of  his  other  leg. 

"Because  I  want  it,"  I  said  defiantly,  then 
added  more  gently,  "I'll  give  you  my  roll 
spread  with  honey  for  it." 

He  let  his  eyes  rest  longingly  on  the  piece 
of  deliciousness,  and  then  finally  observed,. 
"No,  I  have  to  have  it  for  the  geese,  but  I'll 
cut  another  one  like  it  for  you." 

"Can  you  do  that?" 

I  was  all  astonishment. 

"Oh,  that's  nothing,"  he  pooh-poohed.  "I 
can  make  flutes,  too,  and  jumping  jacks." 

I  was  so  completely  carried  off  my  feet  that 
I  handed  him  the  roll  on  the  spot.  He  bit  into 
it  with  gusto,  and,  not  honouring  me  with  an- 


146  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

other  glance,  he  drove  his  feathered  flock  off 
before  him. 

I  looked  after  him,  envy  in  my  heart.  He 
was  allowed  to  shepherd  geese,  but  I  had  to  go 
up  to  Mademoiselle  and  learn  French.  Yes, 
I  thought,  how  unequal  fortune's  favours  are. 

That  evening  he  brought  me  the  switch  he 
had  promised  to  make.  It  was .  even  more 
beautiful  than  I  had  dared  to  hope  in  my  wild- 
est dreams.  There  were  the  white  spirals  that 
had  so  fascinated  me  in  the  original,  and  more 
than  that,  the  butt-end  was  topped  with  a  knob, 
on  which  a  human  countenance — whether  mine 
or  his,  I  could  not  unriddle — was  depicted  by 
two  dots  and  two  dashes  at  right  angles. 

From  that  time  on  we  were  friends.  I  shared 
with  him  all  the  goodies  that  fell  to  me,  the 
spoiled  little  darling,  from  every  side.  In  re- 
turn, he  bestowed  upon  me  the  artistic  prod- 
ucts of  his  skilful  fingers,  reed  pipes,  little 
boxes,  houses,  toy  utensils,  and,  best  of  all,  his 
famous  jumping  jacks. 

Our  meetings  took  place  every  evening  be- 
hind the  goose  coops,  and  there  we  exchanged 


THE     GOOSE     HERD  147 

gifts.  I  looked  forward  the  whole  day  to 
these  meetings,  my  thoughts  constantly  en- 
gaged by  my  young  hero.  I  saw  him  on  the 
sunny  pasture  lying  in  the  grass,  blowing  his 
reed  pipes,  while  I  was  torturing  myself  with 
horrid  vowels.  And  the  yearning  grew  ever 
stronger  within  me  to  partake  of  that  bliss 
which  is  called  minding  geese. 

When  I  told  him  of  my  feelings,  he  burst 
out  laughing. 

"Why  don't  you  come  along,  then?"  he  said. 

That  tipped  the  scales,  and  without  a  sec- 
ond's reflection,  "All  right,"  I  said,  "I'll  go 
along  to-morrow." 

"Don't  forget  to  bring  something  to  eat 
along,"  my  friend  forewarned  me. 

Luck  was  with  me.  Mademoiselle's  head- 
ache came  at  the  very  opportune  moment,  and 
the  French  lesson  was  dispensed  with.  Fever- 
ish with  joy  and  excitement,  I  sat  at  the  break- 
fast table  waiting  for  him  to  go  by.  My 
pockets  were  stuffed  with  goodies  of  all  sorts, 
which  I  had  wheedled  out  of  Mademoiselle, 
and  beside  me  lay  the  switch,  which  I  looked 


148  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

forward  to  swinging  that  day  in  the  strict  ful- 
filment of  my  duty. 

Ah,  there  he  was  coming.  His  blue  eyes 
glanced  up  at  me  slily  as  he  bellowed  his  "Good 
mornin'  to  you"  at  us ;  and  the  instant  I  could 
slip  away  without  attracting  attention  I  was 
off  after  him. 

"What  have  you  brought  along?"  was  his 
first  question. 

"Two  little  ginger  cakes,  three  cervelat 
sandwiches,  a  roll  cut  in  two  with  sardelles  be- 
tween, and  a  piece  of  gooseberry  pie,"  said  I, 
spreading  out  my  glories. 

He  fell  upon  them  at  once,  while  I  with 
carefully  concealed  glee  proudly  drove  the 
geese  along. 

After  passing  through  the  fir  woods,  the 
first  part  of  which  was  somewhat  familiar  to 
me  from  my  previous  walks,  we  came  to  re- 
gions less  and  less  well  known.  Stunted  un- 
dergrowth rose  on  each  side  of  the  way,  mak- 
ing an  uncanny  thicket,  and  then,  all  of  a  sud- 
den, the  broad,  boundless  heath  opened  up  to 
my  vision. 


THE     GOOSE     HERD  149 

Oh,  how  lovely  it  was,  how  lovely!  As  far 
as  the  eye  reached,  a  sea  of  grass  and  gaily 
coloured  flowers.  Molehills  covered  with  turf 
stretched  away  in  long  rows  like  motionless 
waves.  The  hot  air  quivered,  fairly  dancing 
on  the  breezy  heath,  while  the  buzzing  of  the 
bees  made  the  accompaniment.  And  high  up 
in  the  deep  blue  heavens  stood  the  golden  sun. 

At  the  edge  of  the  woods  was  a  marsh  with 
gleaming  puddles  of  greyish  yellow,  thickish 
water.  The  refuse  of  the  geese  floated  on  the 
surface,  and  roundabout  on  the  ground — so 
moist  that  great  bubbles  gushed  up  between 
the  clumps  of  grass — were  thousands  of  fine 
tracks  of  the  geese's  feet,  making  the  whole 
spot  look  like  a  patterned  rug. 

This  was  the  flock's  paradise.  Here  we 
made  halt,  and  while  the  geese  settled  them- 
selves comfortably  in  the  puddles,  we  chased 
about  on  the  heath,  shouting  and  laughing, 
caught  yellow  butterflies,  and  picked  blue- 
berries. 

Then  we  played  husband  and  wife.  Elsie, 
the  tamest  of  the  geese,  was  our  child.  We 


150  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

kissed  and  whipped  the  poor  creature  almost 
to  death,  but  it  finally  succeeded,  after  pro- 
digious efforts,  in  making  its  escape  from  our 
clutches.  Next,  I  prepared  the  meals  for  my 
husband.  I  untied  my  white  apron,  spread  it 
on  the  ground  for  a  tablecloth,  and  placed  on 
it  the  remnants  of  the  food  I  had  brought 
along.  He  sat  down  to  the  repast  pompously, 
and  when  I  saw  the  rapidity  with  which  he 
finished  up  one  bit  after  the  other,  I  nearly 
jumped  out  of  our  little  home  for  joy. 

The  hours  passed  as  in  a  dream.  Higher 
and  higher  rose  the  sun,  until  its  rays  came 
burning  down  on  us  perpendicularly.  My 
head  began  to  spin,  and  a  dull  lassitude  came 
over  me.  Also,  I  experienced  considerable 
hunger,  but  my  spouse  had  already  consumed 
everything.  The  inside  of  my  mouth  was  dry, 
my  lips  were  feverish.  To  cool  them,  I  held 
moist  blades  of  grass  against  them. 

Suddenly,  from  beyond  the  woods,  from 
way  far  away,  came  the  ringing  of  a  bell.  I 
knew  what  it  meant.  It  was  the  summons  to 
the  midday  meal,  which  called  me  to  table,  too. 


THE     GOOSE     HERD  151 

And  if  they  missed  me !  Oh,  God,  what  would 
become  of  me  ? 

I  threw  myself  on  the  grass  and  began  to 
cry  bitterly,  while  my  companion,  meaning  to 
comfort  me,  passed  his  rough  hands  over  my 
face  and  neck. 

Suddenly  I  jumped  up  and  made  a  dash  for 
the  woods,  as  though  pursued  by  the  furies.  It 
must  have  been  about  two  hours  that  I  strayed 
about  in  the  undergrowth  crying.  Then  I 
caught  the  sound  of  voices  calling  my  name, 
and  a  few  moments  later  I  was  in  my  brother's 
arms. 

The  next  morning  my  poor  friend  appeared 
in  the  part  of  abductor  and  seducer  before  the 
high  criminal  court  of  the  lord  of  the  manor. 
He  seemed  to  take  it  for  granted  that  he  was 
to  be  the  scapegoat  and  was  in  for  a  flogging, 
and  he  made  not  the  slightest  attempt  to  shift 
part  of  the  blame  from  himself.  He  accepted 
the  chastisement  my  brother  inflicted  upon 
him  with  the  greatest  calm.  Then  he  rubbed  his 
aching  back  against  a  porch  column,  smiling 
dolefully,  and,  after  that,  hastily  made  off, 


152  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

while  I,  sobbing  aloud,  rolled  on  the  floor. 

From  that  day  on  I  loved  him.  I  plotted 
a  thousand  wiles  and  schemes  for  meeting  him 
secretly.  I  nabbed  edibles  like  a  magpie,  so 
that  he  might  regale  himself  with  the  fruits 
of  my  pilferings.  I  fairly  oppressed  him  with 
the  profusion  of  fond  attentions,  with  which 
I  tried  to  wipe  out  of  existence  those  frightful 
blows  of  my  brother's  whip. 

He  accepted  my  love  calmly  and  rewarded 
me  for  it  by  a  devotion  that  was  moving  and 
an  appetite  that  was  sound. 

Fate  separated  us  six  months  later. 

My  mother  had  been  ailing  for  some  time, 
and  the  physician  now  recommended  her  liv- 
ing in  the  south.  She  put  the  estate  entirely 
in  my  brother's  charge  and  moved  to  the 

Riviera,  taking  me  along. 

•  •  •  •  • 

Nine  years  were  to  elapse  before  I  came 
back  home.  The  return  was  sadder  than  ever 
I  should  have  dreamed.  In  Berlin,  where  I 
had  lived  after  my  mother's  death,  a  tricky 
nervous  trouble  had  taken  hold  of  me  and  kept 


THE     GOOSE     HERD  153 

me  confined  to  bed  for  many  weeks.  The  doc- 
tors wrestled  with  death  and  saved  my  life, 
but  the  blooming  young  girl  had  become  a 
pale  weak  shadow.  My  physician  recom- 
mended the  country  and  pine-needle  baths,  and 
so  I  was  bundled  on  to  the  train  and  trans- 
ported to  my  brother's  estate. 

I  must  have  presented  a  pretty  pitiful  spec- 
tacle, because  when  I  reached  the  house  and 
was  lifted  out  of  the  carriage,  I  saw  tears  in 
the  old  domestics'  eyes. 

It  is  a  peculiar  feeling  to  know  you  are  back 
home  again  after  long  wanderings,  especially 
if  you  have  gone  through  as  much  trouble  as 
I  had.  A  rare  softness  takes  hold  of  you,  and 
you  try  to  blot  out  forever  the  joy  and  the 
suffering  imposed  by  an  alien  world.  You 
try  to  be  a  child  again  and  conjure  up  long 
lost  magic  out  of  the  grave. 

As  I  leaned  back  in  my  reclining  chair  and 
let  my  tired  eyes  roam  over  the  familiar  fields, 
one  shade  after  another  came  alive  again,  and 
the  first  one  in  the  motley  throng  was — my 
dear,  flaxen-haired  goose-herd. 


154  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

"What  has  become  of  him?"  I  asked  my 
brother,  and  was  rejoiced  by  the  good  news 
that  he  had  grown  up  into  a  fine,  good-looking 
young  man  and  could  already  fully  take  the 
place  of  his  father,  the  smith. 

I  felt  my  heart  throbbing.  I  tried  to  scold 
myself  for  my  folly,  but  with  poor  success. 
The  dear  old  memories  were  not  to  be  dis- 
missed, and  finally  I  yielded  myself  up  to  them 
unrestrainedly  and  pictured  the  manner  of  our 
seeing  each  other  again  in  all  the  glowing  col- 
ours of  fairy  tale  romance. 

A  few  days  after  my  arrival  I  was  allowed 
to  take  my  first  drive.  I  was  lifted  into  a  car- 
riage, driven  to  the  woods,  and  then  set  down 
on  a  soft,  mossy,  peaceful  little  spot,  which  I 
had  selected  deliberately.  From  it  you  could 
see  the  smithy  in  which  the  companion  of  my 
childhood  dwelt. 

My  brother  wanted  to  stay  with  me,  but  I 
begged  him  not  to  let  me  keep  him  from  his 
work,  and  assured  him  that  the  little  girl  sent 
along  to  wait  on  me  was  quite  enough  protec- 
tion. Besides,  what  was  there  to  be  afraid  of 


THE     GOOSE     HERD  155 

in  these  peaceful  home  woods?  So,  the  coach- 
man drove  my  brother  back  to  his  office  on  the 
estate,  and  they  were  to  call  for  me  again  in 
two  hours.  Then  I  dismissed  the  little  girl, 
too,  telling  her  to  go  hunt  strawberries  but  to 
stay  nearby.  She  ran  off  happily. 

I  was  alone  at  last!  Now  I  could  dream 
to  my  heart's  content.  The  fir  trees  rustled 
overhead,  and  from  the  smithy  came  the  dull 
blows  of  the  hammer.  Brightly  glowed  the 
fire  in  the  forge,  and  every  now  and  then  a  dark 
figure  glided  in  front  of  it.  That  must  be  he. 

I  did  not  tire  following  the  movements  of 
his  arms.  I  admired  his  strength  and  trem- 
bled for  him  when  the  sparks  flew  about  his 
body. 

The  two  hours  went  by  unnoticed,  and  in 
the  midst  of  my  dreamy  meditations  I  was  sur- 
prised by  my  brother  coming  to  call  for  me. 

"Well,  did  it  seem  a  long  time?"  my  brother 
asked  gaily. 

I  shook  my  head,  smiling,  and  tried  to  get 
up,  but  sank  back  wearily. 

"Hm,  hm,"  said  my  brother,  reflecting.    "I 


156  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

didn't  bring  the  coachman  back,  thinking  I 
could  carry  you  to  the  carriage  by  myself,  but 
the  seat  is  high,  and  I  couldn't  get  you  up 
without  hurting  you.  See  here,  Crete," — he 
turned  to  my  little  companion,  who  had  come 
running  at  the  sound  of  the  carriage — "you  go 
run  down  to  the  smith,  the  young  one,  you 
know,  and  tell  him  he  should  come  and  help  me 
here." 

He  tossed  a  penny  on  the  ground  and  the 
little  maid,  radiant  with  delight,  picked  it  up 
before  going  for  the  smith. 

I  felt  the  blood  rush  to  my  cheeks.  I  was 
to  see  him  again,  here,  on  this  spot.  He  was 
to  act  the  Samaritan  to  me.  I  sat  there  wait- 
ing, my  hand  pressed  to  my  pounding  heart, 
until — until 

There  he  was  coming!  Yes,  that  was  he! 
How  strong,  how  handsome  he  had  grown  to 
be!  Heavy  flaxen  hair  about  his  smoke- 
blackened  face,  and  a  thick  growth  of  light 
down  around  his  powerful  chin.  Young  Sieg- 
fried must  have  looked  like  that  while  serving 
his  apprenticeship  with  the  wicked  Mime. 


THE     GOOSE     HERD  157 

He  clutched  awkwardly  at  his  little  cap, 
tipped  back  on  his  neck  so  jauntily,  while  I 
held  out  my  hand  smiling  and  said,  "How  do 
you  do?" 

"Very  well,"  he  replied  with  an  embarrassed 
laugh,  and  carefully  wiped  his  grimy  fingers 
on  his  leather  apron  before  taking  my  hand. 

"Help  me  lift  the  lady  into  the  carriage," 
said  my  brother. 

He  wiped  his  hands  again,  and  caught  hold 
of  me — none  too  gently — under  the  armpits, 
and  the  two  of  them,  my  brother  taking  me  by 
my  feet,  lifted  me  up  on  to  the  carriage  cush- 
ions. 

"Thanks,  thanks,"  I  said  and  gave  him  a 
smile. 

He  stood  at  the  carriage  door,  shyly  twist- 
ing his  cap  and  looking  from  one  to  the  other 
of  us  uncertainly. 

"He  still  has  something  on  his  heart,"  I  said 
to  myself.  "Why  not?  At  the  sight  of  me 
old  memories  have  been  awakened.  He  wants 
to  talk  to  me  of  the  blissful  days  when  in  child- 
ish innocence  we  watched  the  geese  together. 


158  IOLANTHE'S  WEDDING 

Ah,  he  doesn't  trust  himself — his  lord's  pres- 
ence— I  ought  to  come  to  his  assistance  a  lit- 
tle." 

"Well,"  I  said,  giving  him  a  friendly,  en- 
couraging look  straight  in  his  eyes,  "what  are 
you  thinking  of?" 

My  brother  at  this  turned  from  his  horses, 
with  which  he  had  been  busy,  and  said,  thrust- 
ing his  hand  into  his  pocket: 

"Oh,  you're  waiting  for  your  tip." 

I  felt  as  though  some  one  had  struck  me  in 
the  face. 

"For  goodness'  sake,  Max,"  I  stammered, 
my  blood  going  hot  and  cold. 

But  my  brother  did  not  hear  me  and  handed 
him — actually  dared  to — a  dime. 

I  was  already  seeing  my  childhood  friend 
dashing  the  coin  back  in  my  brother's  face.  I 
exerted  all  my  strength  to  raise  myself  and 
stretch  my  hands  out  so  as  to  prevent  violence 
— but  what  was  that?  No,  impossible!  And 
yet  I  saw  it  with  my  own  eyes.  He  took  the 
money — he  said,  "Thank  you" — he  bowed — 
he  walked  away! 


THE     GOOSE     HERD  159 

And  I?  I  stared  after  him  as  though  he 
were  an  evil  spirit,  then  sank  back  on  the  cush- 
ions with  a  weary  sigh. 

That,  my  dear  friend,  was  the  way  I  said 
good-bye  to  my  youthful  dream. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


JUN      3  1966 


Form  L9-Series  444 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL AJBRAPN .FACILITY 


001  273  503    1 


